








Qass 

Book 

























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"it's a birth-mark!" 


A DOU BLE 
BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE 
STORY 

h 

MARK TWAIN 

Author of ! 

“Huckleberry Finn” “Life on the Mississippi” 
‘‘A Yankee in King Arthur’s Court” etc. 

'' ILLUSTRATED BY ^ 

LUCIUS HITCHCOCK 



NEW YORK AND LONDON 

HARPER & BROTHERS 

PUBLISHERS MCMll 



?Si3lX 

.07 
1 « 102 - 
dyopj^ 4 


Source nnJrnown 
&U B is^o 


Copyright, 1903, by Harper & Brothers. 


. 4 // rights reserved. 
Published April, 1902. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"‘it’s A BIRTH-MARK !" . . . • 

HE PROCEEDED TO LASH HER 

TO A TREE 

I CAUGHT THE FAMILIAR WHIFF 
HE BACKED AGAINST THE WALL 
AS TIGHTLY AS HE COULD . 
“ YES, i'll save you ” . . . . 

IN A MOMENT I WAS AT HIS 

SIDE 

“THE SHERIFF I” 


Frontispiece 


Facing page 

H 


8 

34 


ii 


ti 


68 

134 


n 


it 


158 

172 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


Ipart H 

We ought never to do wrong 
when people are looking 
















A 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


I 


HE first scene is in the 
country, in Virginia ; the 
time, 1880. There has 
been a wedding, between 
a handsome young man of slender 
means and a rich young girl — a 
case of love at first sight and a 
precipitate marriage ; a marriage 
bitterly opposed by the girl's wid- 
owed father. 

Jacob Fuller, the bridegroom, is 
twenty-six years old, is of an old 
but unconsidered family which had 



A 

<wedding 






A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

The 

bride 

by compulsion emigrated from Sedge- 
moor, and for King James's purse's 
profit, so everybody said — some ma- 
liciously, the rest merely because 
they believed it. The bride is nine- 
teen and beautiful. She is intense, 
high-strung, romantic, immeasurably 
proud of her Cavalier blood, and 
passionate in her love for her young 
husband. For its sake she braved 
her father's displeasure, endured his 
reproaches, listened with loyalty un- 
shaken to his warning predictions, 

and went from his house without his 

blessing, proud and happy in the 
proofs she was thus giving of the 
quality of the affection which had 
made its home in her heart. 

The morning after the marriage 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


there was a sad surprise for her. 


Her husband put aside her proffered 

The 

<TDife's 

caresses, and said: 

surprise 

'' Sit down. I have something to 


say to you. I loved you. That was 


before I asked your father to give 


you to me. His refusal is not my 


grievance — I could have endured that. ' 


But the things he said of me to you — 


that is a different matter. There — 


you needn't speak ; I know quite 


well what they were; I got them 


from authentic sources. Among oth- 


er things he said that my character 


was written in my face; that I was 


treacherous, a dissembler, a coward. 


and a brute without sense of pity or 

The 

Sedge- 

compassion: the "Sedgemoor trade- 

moor 

tra.de 

mark,' he called it — and 'white-sleeve 

mark 

5 





A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Scheme 
of re- 
venge 

badge/ Any other man in my place 
would have gone to his house and 
shot him down like a dog. I wanted 
to do it, and was minded to do it, 
but a better thought came to me: 
to put him to shame; to break his 
heart; to kill him by inches. How 
to do it? Through my treatment of 
you, his idol! I would marry you; 
and then — Have patience. You 

will see.'' 

From that moment onward, for 
three months, the young wife suffered 
all the humiliations, all the insults, 
all the miseries that the diligent and 
inventive mind of the husband could 
contrive, save physical injuries only. 

Her strong pride stood by her, and 
she kept the secret of her troubles. 


A double-barrelled 
DETECTIVE STORY 


Now and then the husband said, 
''Why don't you go to your father 
and tell him?" Then he invented 
new tortures, applied them, and asked 
again. She always answered, "He 
shall never know by my mouth," 
and taunted him with his origin ; 
said she was the lawful slave of a 
scion of slaves, and must obey, and 
would — up to that point, but no 
further; he could kill her if he liked, 
but he could not break her ; it was not 
in the Sedgemoor breed to do it. At 
the end of the three months he said, 
with a dark significance in his man- 
ner, " I have tried all things but one " 

— and waited for her reply. ''Try 
that," she said, and curled her lip 
in mockery. 

N&w 

tortures 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


A 

fiend's 

frenzy 


The 

husband 

dis- 

appears 


That night he rose at midnight and 
put on his clothes, then said to her, 

'' Get up and dress I'' 

She obeyed — as always, without a 
word. He led her half a mile from 
the house, and proceeded to lash her 
to a tree by the side of the public road ; 
and succeeded, she screaming and 
struggling. He gagged her then, 
struck' her across the face with his 
cowhide, and set his blood -hounds 
on her. They tore the clothes off 
her, and she was naked. He called 
the dogs off, and said : 

''You will be found — by the passing 
public. They will be dropping along 
about three hours from now, and will 
spread the news — do you hear? Good- 
by. You have seen the last of me."" 











i 

» 


J 



f 




H- . 'AY 




1 \ 


i .* 


» 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


He went away then. She moaned 
to herself: 

''I shall bear a child — to him! 
God grant it may be a boy!'' 

The farmers released her by-and- 
by — and spread the news, which was 
natural. They raised the country 
with lynching intentions, but the 
bird had flown. The j^oung wife 
shut herself up in her father's house; 
he shut himself up with her, and 
thenceforth would see no one. His 
pride was broken, and his heart; so 
he wasted away, day by day, and 
even his daughter rejoiced when death 

relieved him. 

Then she sold the estate and dis- 
appeared. 

9 

Wife's 
cry for 
ven- 
geance 



A 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


n 


N 1886 a young woman 
was living in a modest 
house near a secluded 
New England village, 
with no company but a little boy 
about five years old. She did her 
own work, she discouraged acquaint- 
anceships, and had none. The butch- 
er, the baker, and the others that 
served her could tell the villagers 
nothing about her further than that 
her name was Stillman, and that she 
called the child Archy. Whence she 

10 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 


DETECTIVE STORY 


came they had not been able to find 
out, but they said she talked like a 

A 

lonely 

Southerner. The child had no play- 
mates and no comrade, and no teacher 
but the mother. She taught him dili- 
gently and intelligently, and was sat- 
isfied with the results — even a little 
proud of them. One day Archy said. 

child 

Mamma, am I different from other 


children?'' 


"Well, I suppose not. Why?" 

"There was a child going along 


out there and asked me if the post- 
man had been by and I said yes, and 
she said how long since I saw him 
and I said I hadn't seen him at all, 
and she said how did I know he'd 

He smelt 

been by, then, and I said because I 
smelt his track on the sidewalk, and 

a. man's 
tracks 

II 





A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

The 
scent 
of the 
blood- 
hound 

she said I was a dum fool and made 

a mouth at me. What did she do 

that for?^^ 

The young woman turned white, 
and said to herself, ''It's a birth- 
mark! The gift of the blood-hound 
is in him." She snatched the boy to 
her breast and hugged him passion- 
ately, saying, " God has appointed 
the way!" Her eyes were burning 
with a fierce light and her breath 
came short and quick with excite- 
ment. She said to herself: "The 
puzzle is solved now; many a time 
it has been a mystery to me, the im- 
possible things the child has done in 
the dark, but it is all clear to me now." 

She set him in his small chair, and 
said, 

12 



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DETECTIVE STORY 


''Wait a little till I come, dear; 
then we will talk about the matter/' 

She went up to her room and took 
from her dressing-table several small 
articles and put them out of sight : a 
nail-file on the floor under the bed ; a 
pair of nail-scissors under the bureau; a 
small ivory paper-knife under the ward- 
robe. Then she returned, and said : 

"There! I have left some things 
which I ought to have brought down." 

She named them, and said, " Run up 
and bring them, dear." 

The child hurried away on his er- 
rand and was soon back again with 
the things. 

" Did you have any difficulty, dear?" 

"No, mamma; I only went where 
you went." 

J 13 

Testing 

the 

blood 

gift 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

The trial 
at home 

During his absence she had stepped 
to the bookcase, taken several books 
from the bottom shelf, opened each, 
passed her hand over a page, noting 
its number in her memory, then re- 
stored them to their places. Now 
she said : 

'' I have been doing something 
while you have been gone, Archy. 

Do you think you can find out what 

it was?'' 

The boy went to the bookcase and 
got out the books that had been touch- 
ed, and opened them at the pages 
which had been stroked. 

The mother took him in her lap, 
and said: 

''I will answer your question now, 
dear. I have found out that in one 

14 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


way you are quite different from other 
people. You can see in the dark, 
you can smell what other people can- 
not, you have the talents of a blood- 
hound. They are good and valuable 
things to have, but you must keep 
the matter a secret. If people found 
it out, they would speak of you as an 
odd child, a strange child, and chil- 
dren would be disagreeable to you, and 
give you nicknames. In this world 
one must be like everybody else if he 
doesn't want to provoke scorn or envy 
or jealousy. It is a great and fine 
distinction which has been born to you, 
and I am glad ; but you will keep it a 
secret, for mamma's sake, won't you?" 

The child promised, without under- 
standing. 

15 

An odd 
child 






A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Uncanny 

plans 

All the rest of the day the mother's 
brain was busy with excited think- 
ings; with plans, projects, schemes, 
each and all of them uncanny, grim, 
and dark. Yet they lit up her face; 
lit it with a fell light of their own; 
lit it with vague fires of hell. She 
was in a fever of unrest; she could 
not sit, stand, read, sew; there was 

no relief for her but in movement. 

To break 
his heart 

She tested her boy's gift in twenty 
ways, and kept saying to herself all 
the time, with her mind in the past: 

''He broke my father's heart, and 
night and day all these years I have 
tried, and all in vain, to think out a 
way to break his. I have found it 
now — I have found it now." 

When night fell, the demon of un- 

l6 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


rest still possessed her. She went 
on with her tests; with a candle she 
traversed the house from garret to 
cellar, hiding pins, needles, thimbles, 
spools, under pillows, under carpets, 
in cracks in the walls, under the coal 
in the bin; then sent the little fellow 
in the dark to find them; which he 
did, and was happy and proud when 
she praised him and smothered him 

with caresses. 

From this time forward' life took 
on a new complexion for her. She 
said, "'The future is secure — I can 
wait, and enjoy the waiting.'" The 
most of her lost interests revived. 

She took up music again, and lan- 
guages, drawing, painting, and the 
other long-discarded delights of her 

* 17 

Further 

tests 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

A heart 
too soft 

maidenhood. She was happy once 
more, and felt again the zest of life. 

As the years drifted by she watched 
the development of her boy, and was 
contented with it. Not altogether, 
but nearly that. The soft side of 
his heart was larger than the other 
side of it. It was his only defect, in 
her eyes. But she considered that 
his love for her and worship of her 
made up for it. He was a good hater 
— that was well ; but it was a question 
if the materials of his hatreds were 
of as tough and enduring a quality 
as those of his friendships — and that 
was not so well. 

The years drifted on. Archy was 
become a handsome, shapely, ath- 

i8 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


letic youth, courteous, dignified, com- 
panionable, pleasant in his ways, 
and looking perhaps a trifle older 
than he was, which was sixteen. 
One evening his mother said she had 
something of grave importance to 
say to him, adding that he was old 
enough to hear it now, and old enough 
and possessed of character enough 
and stability enough to carry out a 
stern plan which she had been for 
years contriving and maturing. Then 
she told him her bitter story, in all 
its naked atrociousness. For a while 
the boy was paralyzed; then he said: 

"'I understand. We are Southern- 
ers; and by our custom and nature 
there is but one atonement. I will 
search him out and kill him.'’ 

19 


The 

mother* s 
plan 


Inade- 

quate 

atone 

ment 



DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


Worse 

tha.n 

death 


Jacob 

Fuller 


''Kill him? No! Death is release, 
emancipation; death is a favor. Do 
I owe him favors? You must not 
hurt a hair of his head.'' 

The boy was lost in thought awhile; 
then he said : 

"You are all the world to me, and 
your desire is my law and my pleasure. 
Tell me what to do and I will do it." 

The mother's eyes beamed with 
satisfaction, and she said : 

"You will go and find him. I 
have known his hiding-place for eleven 
years; it cost me five years and more 
of inquiry, and much money, to locate 
it. He is a quartz-miner in Colorado, 
and well-to-do. He lives in Denver. 
His name is Jacob Fuller. There — it 
is the first time I have spoken it since 

20 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


that unforgettable night. Think ! 
That name could have been yours 
if I had not saved you that shame 
and furnished you a cleaner one. 
You will drive him from that place; 
you will hunt him down and drive 
him again ; and yet again, and again, 
and again, persistently, relentlessly, 
poisoning his life, filling it with mys- 
terious terrors, loading it with weari- 
ness and misery, making him wish 
for death, and that he had a suicide's 
courage; you will make of him an- 
other wandering Jew; he shall know 
no rest any more, no peace of mind, 
no placid sleep; you shall shadow 
him, cling to him, persecute him, till 
you break his heart, as he broke my 
father's and mine." 

21 

Another 
‘wander- 
ing Je^ 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Money 
And dis- 
guises 

will obey, mother/^ 

''I believe it, my child. The prep- 
arations are all made; everything is 
ready. Here is a letter of credit; 
spend freely, there is no lack of mon- 
ey. At times you may need disguises. 

I have provided them; also some oth- 
er conveniences.^' She took from the 

drawer of the type-writer table several 
squares of paper. They all bore these 
type- written words : 

|10,000 REWARD. 

It is believed that a certain 

man who is wanted in an East- 
ern State is sojourning here. 

In 1§§0, in the night, he tied 
his young wife to a tree by 
the public road, cut her across 

22 



A double-barrelled 

DETECTIVE STORY 


the face with a cowhide, and 
made his dogs tear her clothes 
from her, leaving her naked. 

He left her there, and fled 
the country. A hlood-relative 

of hers has searched for him 

for seventeen years. Address 

, Post-office. The 

above reward will be paid in 
cash to the person who will 
furnish the seeker, in a per- 
sonal interview, the crimi- 
nal's address. 

The 

first 

placard 

'"When you have found him and 
acquainted yourself with his scent, 
you will go in the night and placard 
one of these upon the building he 
occupies, and another one upon the 
post-office or in some other prominent 

23 





A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Careful 

cruelty 

place. It will be the talk of the region. 

At first you must give him several 
days in which to force a sale of his 
belongings at something approach- 
ing their value. We will ruin him 
by-and-by, but gradually; we must 
not impoverish him at once, for that 
could bring him to despair and injure 
his health, possibly kill him.'" 

She took three or four more type- 
written forms from the drawer — du- 
plicates — and read one: 

!§.... 

To Jacob Fuller: 

You have days in which 

to settle your affairs. You 
will not be disturbed during 
that limit, which will expire 
at M. , on the of 

24 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


If you are still in the place 
after the named hour, I will 
placard you on all the dead 
walls, detailing your crime 
once more, and adding the date, 
also the scene of it, with all 
names concerned, including 

your own. Have no fear of 
bodily injury — it will in no 

circumstances ever be in- 
flicted upon you. You brought 
misery upon an old man, and 

ruined his life and broke his 

heart. What he suffered, you 

are to suffer. 

The 

second 

plajcard 

""You will add no signature. He 
must receive this before he learns of 
the reward - placard — before he rises 

25 





A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Moving 

on 

in the morning — lest he lose his head 
and fly the place penniless/' 

"'I shall not forget." 

''You will need to use these forms 
only in the beginning — once may 
be enough. Afterward, when you are 
ready for him to vanish out of a 
place, see that he gets a copy of this 
form, which merely says: 

MOVE ON. You have days. 

"He will obey. That is sure." 


26 


A 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


m 


Extracts from Letters to the Mother. 

Denver, April 3, 1897. 
HAVE now been living 
several days in the same 
hotel with Jacob Fuller. 
I have his scent ; I could 
track him through ten divisions of in- 
fantry and find him. I have often been 
near him and heard him talk. He owns 
a good mine, and has a fair income 
from it ; but he is not rich. He learned 
mining in a good way — by working 
at it for wages. He is a cheerful 

27 





A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

A pleas- 
ing per- 
sonality 

creature, and his forty -three years 
sit lightly upon him; he could pass 
for a younger man — say thirty -six 
or thirty-seven. He has never mar- 
ried again — passes himself off for a 
widower. He stands well, is liked, 
is popular, and has many friends. 
Even I feel a drawing toward him — 
the paternal blood in me making its 
claim. How blind and unreasoning 
and arbitrary are some of the laws 
of nature — the most of them, in fact! 

My task is become hard now — you 
realize it? you comprehend, and make 
allowances?— and the fire of it has 
cooled, more than I like to confess to 
myself. But I will carry it out. Even 
with the pleasure paled, the duty re- 
mains, and I will not spare him. 

28 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


And for my help, a sharp resent- 
ment rises in me when I reflect that 

he who committed that odious crime 

is the only one who has not suffered 
by it. The lesson of it has mani- 
festly reformed his character, and in 
the change he is happy. He, the 
guilty party, is absolved from all suf- 
fering; you, the innocent, are borne 
down with it. But be comforted — he 

shall harvest his share. 

Happy 

criminal 

Silver Gulch, May 19. 

I placarded Form No. l at midnight 
of April 3; an hour later I slipped 
Form No. 2 under his chamber door, 
notifying him to leave Denver at or 
before 11.50 the night of the 14th. 

Some late bird of a reporter stole 

29 

The 

Earn- 

ing 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

The 

**scoop^^ 

one of my placards, then hunted the 
town over and found the other one, 

and stole that. In this manner he 
accomplished what the profession call 
a '' scoop '' — that is, he got a valuable 
item, and saw to it that no other pa- 
per got it. And so his paper — the 
principal one in the town — had it in 
glaring type on the editorial page in 
the morning, followed by a Vesuvian 
opinion of our wretch a column long, 
which wound up by adding a thou- 
sand dollars to our reward on the 
paper’s account! The journals out 
here know how to do the noble thing 
— when there's business in it. 

At breakfast I occupied my usual 
seat — selected because it afforded a 
view of papa Fuller's face, and was 

30 


A 


D 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
ETECTIVE STORY 


near enough for me to hear the talk 
that went on at his table. Seventy- 
five or a hundred people were in the 
room, and all discussing that item, 
and saying they hoped the seeker 
would find that rascal and remove 
the pollution of his presence from 
the town — with a rail, or a bullet, or 
something. 

When Fuller came in he had the 
Notice to Leave — folded up — in one 
hand, and the newspaper in the other ; 
and it gave me more than half a pang 
to see him. His cheerfulness was all 
gone, and he looked old and pinched 
and ashy. And then — only think of 
the things he had to listen to! Mam- 
ma, he heard his own unsuspecting 
friends describe him with epithets 

31 


m<yoal 
by rail 
or 

buttet 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Calls 

himself 

names 

and characterizations drawn from the 
very dictionaries and phrase-books 
of Satan's own authorized editions ^ 

down below. And more than that, 
he had to agree with the verdicts and 
applaud them. His applause tasted i 

bitter in his mouth, though ; he could ; 

not disguise that from me; and it was ' 

observable that his appetite was gone; 
he only nibbled; he couldn't eat. Fi- 
nally a man said : 

''It is quite likely that that rela- 
tive is in the room and hearing what 
this town thinks of that unspeak- J 

able scoundrel. I hope so." 

Ah, dear, it was pitiful the way ' 

Fuller winced, and glanced around 1 

scared ! He couldn't endure any 
more, and got up and left. 

32 


1 — — . 

A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


During several days he gave out 
that he had bought a mine in Mexico, 
and wanted to sell out and go down 
there as soon as he could, and give 
the property his personal attention. 

He played his cards well; said he 
would take $40,000 — a quarter in 
cash, the rest in safe notes; but that 
as he greatly needed money on ac- 
count of his new purchase, he would 

diminish his terms for cash in full. 

He sold out for $30,000. And then, 
w’hat do you think he did? He asked 
for greenbacks, and took them, say- 
ing the man in Mexico was a New- 
Englander, wdth a head full of crotch- 
ets, and preferred greenbacks to gold 
or drafts. People thought it queer, 
since a draft on New York could pro- 

3 33 

He sells 
out 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

sticking 
to his 
trail 

duce greenbacks quite conveniently. 
There was talk of this odd thing, but 
only for a day ; that is as long as any 
topic lasts in Denver. 

I was watching, all the time. As 
soon as the sale was completed and 
the money paid — which was on the 
nth — I began to stick to Fuller's 
track without dropping it for a mo- 
ment. That night — no, 12 th, for it 
was a little past midnight — I tracked 
him to his room, which was four doors 
from mine in the same hall, then I 
went back and put on my muddy 
day-laborer disguise, darkened my 
complexion, and sat down in my room 
in the gloom, with a gripsack handy, 
with a change in it, and my door ajar. 

For I suspected that the bird would 

34 



\ 



I CAUGHT THE FAMILIAR WHIFF 





A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


take wing now. In half an hour an 


old woman passed by, carrying a grip ; 

Dis- 

I caught the familiar whiff and fol- 

guised 

lowed, with my grip, for it was Fuller. 

He left the hotel by a side entrance, 
and at the corner he turned up an 
unfrequented street and walked three 
blocks in a light rain and a heavy 
darkness, and got into a two-horse 
hack, which, of course, was waiting 
for him by appointment. I took a 
seat (uninvited) on the trunk plat- 
form behind, and we drove briskly 

as a 

woman 

off. We drove ten miles, and the hack 
stopped at a way station and was 
discharged. Fuller got out and took 
a seat on a barrow under the awning, 
as far as he could get from the light; 

I went inside, and watched the ticket- 

35 




A 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


On the 
train 


False 

•whisk- 

ers 


office. Fuller bought no ticket; I 
bought none. Presently the train 
came along, and he boarded a car; 
I entered the same car at the other 
end, and came down the aisle and 
took the seat behind him. When 
he paid the conductor and named 
his objective point, I dropped back 
several seats, while the conductor 
was changing a bill, and when he 
came to me I paid to the same place 
— about a hundred miles westward. 

From that time for a week on end 
he led me a dance. He travelled here 
and there and yonder — always on a 
general westward trend — but he was 
not a woman after the first day. He 
was a laborer, like myself, and wore 
bushy false whiskers. His outfit was 


36 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


perfect, and he could do the character 
without thinking about it, for he had 
served the trade for wages. His near- 
est friend could not have recognized 
him. At last he located himself here, 
the obscurest little mountain camp 
in Montana; he has a shanty, and 
goes out prospecting daily; is gone 
all day, and avoids society. I am 
living at a miner's boarding-house, 
and it is an awful place: the bunks, 
the food, the dirt — everything. 

We have been here four weeks, 

and in that time I have seen him but 

once; but every night I go over his 
track and post myself. As soon as 
he engaged a shanty here I went to a 
town fifty miles away and telegraphed 
that Denver hotel to keep my baggage 

37 

Lining 
in a 
shanty 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 

till I should send for it. I need noth- 


ing here but a change of army shirts, 
and I brought that with me. 


Futter 

feels 

safe 


Silver Gulch, June 12. 

The Denver episode has never found 
its way here, I think. I know the 
most of the men in camp, and they 
have never referred to it, at least in 
my hearing. Fuller doubtless feels 
quite safe in these conditions. He 
has located a claim, two miles away, 
in an out-of-the-way place in the 
mountains ; it promises very well, 
and he is working it diligently. Ah, 
but the change in him! He never 
smiles, and he keeps quite to him- 
self, consorting with no one — ^he who 
was so fond of company and so cheery 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


only two months ago. I have seen 
him passing along several times re- 
cently — drooping, forlorn, the spring 
gone from his step, a pathetic figure. 

He calls himself David Wilson. 

I can trust him to remain here imtil 

we disturb him. Since you insist, I 
will banish him again, but I do not 
see how he can be unhappier than he 
already is. I will go back to Denver 
and treat myself to a little season of 
comfort, and edible food, and endur- 
able beds, and bodily decency; then 

I will fetch my things, and notify 
poor papa Wilson to move on. 

Denver, June 19. 

They miss him here. They all hope 
he is prospering in Mexico, and they 

39 

Droop- 
ing and 
forlorn 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 


DETECTIVE STORY 


do not say it just with their mouths. 

They 
are k[l 

but out of their hearts. You know 

sorry 

you can always tell. I am loitering 
here overlong, I confess it. But if 
you were in my place you would have 
charity for me. Yes, I know what 
you will say, and you are right: if 

I were in your place, and carried your 
scalding memories in my heart — 


I will take the night train back to- 


morrow. 


Denver, June 20. 

Hunting 

the 

God forgive us, mother, we are 

•=(X)rong 

hunting the wrong man! I have not 

man 

slept any all night. I am now wait- 
ing, at dawn, for the morning train 
— and how the minutes drag, how 
they drag! 


This Jacob Fuller is a cousin of 


40 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
detective story 


the guilty one. How stupid we have 
been not to reflect that the guilty 
one would never again wear his own 
name after that fiendish deed! The 
Denver Fuller is four years younger 
than the other one; he came here a 
young widower in '79, aged twenty- 
one — a year before you w^ere married ; 
and the documents to prove it are in- 
numerable. Last night I talked with 

familiar friends of his who have known 

him from the day of his arrival. I 
said nothing, but a few days from 
now I will land him in this town again, 
with the loss upon his mine made 
good; and there will be a banquet, 
and a torch-light procession, and there 
will not be any expense on anybody 
but me. Do you call this ''gush"'? 

4 ^!^: 41 

Not the 
criminal 



A 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


I am only a boy, as you well know; 


it is my privilege. By-and-by I shall 


not be a boy any more. 


Gone 
and 
left no 
cte<=Q) 


Silver Gulch, July 3. 

Mother, he is gone! Gone, and left 
no trace. The scent was cold when 
I came. To-day I am out of bed for 
the first time since. I wish I were 
not a boy; then I could stand shocks 
better. They all think he went west. 
I start to-night, in a wagon — two or 
three hours of that, then I get a train. 
I don't know where Tm going, but I 
must go; to try to keep still would be 
torture. 

Of course he has effaced himself 
with a new name and a disguise. 
This means that 1 may have to search 


42 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


the whole globe to find him. Indeed 
it is what I expect. Do you see, moth- 
er? It is I that am the Wandering 
Jew. The irony of it! We arranged 
that for another. 

Think of the difficulties! And 
there would be none if I only could 
advertise for him. But if there is any 
way to do it that would not frighten 
him, I have not been able to think it 
out, and I have tried till my brains 
are addled. ''If the gentleman who 
lately bought a mine in Mexico and 
sold one in Denver will send his ad- 
dress to'' (to whom, mother?), "it 
will be explained to him that it was 
all a mistake; his forgiveness will 
be asked, and full reparation made 
for a loss which he sustained in a 

43 

The 

hunter 

hunted 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Not the 

man 

•wanted 

certain matter/' Do you see? He 
would think it a trap. Well, any one 
would. If I should say, ''It is now 
known that he was not the man wanted, 

but another man — a man who once 

bore the same name, but discarded 
it for good reasons" — would that an- 
swer? But the Denver people would 
wake up then and say "Oho!" and 
they would remember about the sus- 
picious greenbacks, and say, "Why 
did he run away if he wasn't the right 
man? — it is too thin." If I failed to 

find him he would be ruined there — 
there where there is no taint upon 
him now. You have a better head 
than mine. Help me. 

I have one clew, and only one. I 
know his handwriting. If he puts 

44 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


his new false name upon a hotel regis- 
ter and does not disguise it too much, 
it will be valuable to me if I ever run 

across it. 

San Francisco, June 28, 1898. 

You already know how well I have 
searched the States from Colorado 
to the Pacific, and how nearly I came 
to getting him once. Well, I have 
had another close miss. It was here, 
yesterday. I struck his trail, hot, 
on the street, and followed it on a 
run to a cheap hotel. That was a 
costly mistake ; a dog would have 
gone the other way. But I am only 
part dog, and can get very humanly 
stupid when excited. He had been 
stopping in that house ten days; I 

45 

A dose 
miss 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Has to 
keep 
moving 

almost know, now, that he stops long 
nowhere, the past six or eight months, 
but is restless and has to keep moving. 

1 understand that feeling! and I know 
what it is to feel it. He still uses the 
name he had registered when I came 
so near catching him nine months 
ago — “ James Walker '' ; doubtless the 
same he adopted when he fled from 
Silver Gulch. An unpretending man, 
and has small taste for fancy names. 

I recognized the hand easily, through 
its slight disguise. A square man, 
and not good at shams and pretences. 

They said he was just gone, on a 
journey; left no address; didn't say 
where he was going; looked fright- 
ened when asked to leave his address ; 
had no baggage but a cheap va- 

46 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


lise; carried it off on foot — a ‘'stingy 
old person, and not much loss to the 
house/' ‘'Old!” I suppose he is, 
now. I hardly heard; I was there 
but a moment. I rushed along his 
trail, and it led me to a wharf. Moth- 
er, the smoke of the steamer he had 
taken was just fading out on the hori- 
zon! I should have saved half an 
hour if I had gone in the right direc- 
tion at first. I could have taken a 

fast tug, and should have stood a 
chance of catching that vessel. She 

is bound for Melbourne. 

Hope Canyon, California, 

October 3, 1900. 

You have a right to complain. 

“A letter a year'' is a paucity; I 
freely acknowledge it; but how can 

47 

The 

aging 

crim 

inal 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Chased 

over 

the 

voorld 

one write when there is nothing to 
write about but failures? No one 
can keep it up ; it breaks the heart. 

I told you — it seems ages ago, now 
— how I missed him at Melbourne, and 

then chased him all over Australasia 

for months on end. 

Well, then, after that I followed him 
to India ; almost saw him in Bombay ; 
traced him all around — to Baroda, 

Rawal-Pindi, Lucknow, Lahore. Cawn- 
pore, Allahabad, Calcutta, Madras — 
oh, everywhere ; week after week, 
month after month, through the dust 
and swelter — always approximately 
on his track, sometimes close upon 
him, yet never catching him. • And 
down to Ceylon, and then to — Never 
mind , by-and-by I will write it all out. 

4S, 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


I chased him home to California^ 
and down to Mexico^ and back again 
to California. Since then I have been 

hunting him about the State from 
the first of last January down to a 
month ago. I feel almost sure he is 
not far from Hope Canyon; I traced 
him to a point thirty miles from here, 
but there I lost the trail; some one 
gave him a lift in a wagon, I suppose. 

I am taking a rest, now — modi- 
fied by searchings for the lost trail. 

I was tired to death, mother, and low- 
spirited, and sometimes coming un- 
comfortably near to losing hope; but 
the miners in this little camp are 
good fellows, and I am used to their 
sort this long time back; and their 
breezy ways freshen a person up and 

4 49 

Back in 
Califor- 
nia 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Sammy 

miyer 

make him forget his troubles. I have 
been here a month. I am cabining 
with a young fellow named Sam- 
my'' Hillyer, about twenty-five, the 
only son of his mother — like me — 
and loves her dearly, and writes to 
her every week — part of which is like 
me. He is a timid body, and in the 
matter of intellect — well, he cannot 
be depended upon to set a river on 
fire; but no matter, he is well liked; 
he is good and fine, and it is meat 
and bread and rest and luxury to 
sit and talk with him and have a 
comradeship again. I wish ''James 
Walker" could have it. He had 
friends; he liked company. That 

brings up that picture of him, the 
time that I saw him last. The pathos 

50 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


of it! It comes before me often and 
often. At that very time, poor thing, 

I was girding up my conscience to 
make him move on again! 

Hillyer's heart is better than mine, 
better than anybody's in the com- 
munity, I suppose, for he is the one 
friend of the black sheep of the camp 
— Flint Buckner — and the only man 

Flint ever talks with or allows to 

talk with him. He says he knows 
Flint's history, and that it is trouble 
that has made him what he is, and 
so one ought to be as charitable tow- 
ard him as one can. Now none but 
a pretty large heart could find space 
to accommodate a lodger like Flint 
Buckner, from all I hear about him 
outside. I think that this one de- 

51 

The 

bUck 

sheep 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

c4 man 
of 

misery 

tail will give you a better idea of 
Sammy's character than any labored- 
out description I could furnish you 
of him. In one of our talks he said 
something about like this: ''Flint's 
a kinsman of mine, and he pours out 
all his troubles to me — empties his 
breast from time to time, or I reckon 

it would burst. There couldn't be 

any unhappier man, Archy Stillman; 
his life has been made up of misery 
of mind — he isn't near as old as he 

looks. He has lost the feel of re- 
posefulness and peace — oh, years and 
years ago! He doesn't know what 
good luck is — never has had any; 
often says he wishes he was in the 
other hell, he is so tired of this one." 


52 



A 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


IV 


No real gentleman will tell the naked 
truth in the presence of ladies 



5T was a crisp and spicy 
' morning in early Octo- 
I ber. The lilacs and la- 
; burnums, lit with the 
glory-fires of autumn, himg burning 
and flashing in the upper air, a fairy 
bridge provided by kind Nature for 
the wingless wild things that have 
their homes in the tree-tops and would 
visit together ; the larch and the pome- 
granate flung their purple and yel- 


53 


Fine 

days 

and 

^ooords 





A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

More 

fine 

days 

and 

•words 

low flames in brilliant broad splashes 
along the slanting sweep of the wood- 
land; the sensuous fragrance of in- 
numerable deciduous flowers rose upon 
the swooning atmosphere; far in the 
empty sky a solitary oesophagus slept 
upon motionless wing ; everywhere 
brooded stillness, serenity, and the 
peace of God. 

October is the time — 1900; Hope 
Canyon is the place, a silver-mining 
camp away down in the Esmeralda 
region. It is a secluded spot, high 
and remote; recent as to discovery; 
thought by its occupants to be rich 
in metal — a year or two^s prospect- 
ing will decide that matter one way 
or the other. For inhabitants, the 
camp has about two hundred miners, 

54 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


one white woman and child, several 
Chinese washermen, five squaws, and 
a dozen vagrant buck Indians in rab- 
bit-skin robes, battered plug hats, 
and tin -can necklaces. There are 
no mills as yet; there is no church, 
no newspaper. The camp has ex- 
isted but two years; it has made no 
big strike; the world is ignorant of 
its name and place. 

On both sides of the canyon the 
mountains rise wall-like, three thou- 
sand feet, and the long spiral of strag- 
gling huts down in its narrow bottom 
gets a kiss from the sun only once a 
day, when he sails over at noon. The 
village is a couple of miles long; the 
cabins stand well apart from each 
other. The tavern is the only " frame " 

55 

A nerx) 
camp 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

The 

taf=oern 

house — the only house, one might 
say. It occupies a central position, 
and is the evening resort of the pop- 
ulation. They drink there, and play 
seven-up and dominoes ; also billiards, 
for there is a table, crossed all over 
with tom places repaired with court- 
plaster; there are some cues, but no 
leathers; some chipped balls which 
clatter when they run, and do not 
slow up gradually, but stop suddenly 
and sit down; there is part of a cube 
of chalk, with a projecting jag of flint 
in it ; and the man who can score six 
on a single break can set up the drinks 
at the bar's expense. 

Flint Buckner's cabin was the last 
one of the village, going south; his 

56 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


silver claim was at the other end of 
the village, northward, and a little 
beyond the last hut in that direction. 

He was a sour creature, unsociable, 
and had no companionships. Peo- 
ple who had tried to get acquainted 
with him had regretted it and dropped 
him. His history was not known. 
Some believed that Sammy Hillyer 
knew it; others said no. If asked, 
Hillyer said no, he was not acquainted 
with it. Flint had a meek English 
youth of sixteen or seventeen with 
him, whom he treated roughly, both 
in public and in private, and of course 
this lad was applied to for informa- 
tion, but with no success. Fetlock 
Jones — name of the youth — said that 
Flint picked him up on a prospecting 

57 

A sour 
creature 




A DOUBLE-BARREI.LED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Salary, 

bacon 

and 

beans 

tramp, and as he had neither home 
nor friends in America, he had found 
it wise to stay and take Buckner's 
hard usage for the sake of the salary, 
which was bacon and beans. Further 
than this he could offer no testimony. 

Fetlock had been in this slavery 
for a month now, and under his meek 
exterior he was slowly consuming 
to a cinder with the insults and hu- 
miliations which his master had put 
upon him. For the meek suffer bitter- 
ly from these hurts; more bitterly, 
perhaps, than do the manlier sort, who 
can burst out and get relief with words 
or blows when the limit of endurance 
has been reached. Good-hearted peo- 
ple wanted to help Fetlock out of his 
trouble, and tried to get him to leave 




IN A MOMENT I WAS AT HIS SIDE 

4 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


Buckner; but the boy showed fright 
at the thought, and said he ''dasn'f 

Pat Riley urged him, and said: 

''You leave the damned hunks and 
come with me; don't you be afraid, 
ril take care of him” 

The boy thanked him with tears 
in his eyes, but shuddered and said 
he "dasn't risk it"; he said Flint 
would catch him alone, some time, in 
the night, and then — " Oh, it makes 
me sick, Mr. Riley, to think of it." 

Others said, "Run away from him; 
well stake you; skip out for the coast 
some night." But all these sugges- 
tions failed; he said Flint would hunt 
him down and fetch him back, just 
for meanness. 

The people could not understand 

59 

Afraid 
to quit 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

The 

problem 

of 

murder 

this. The boy's miseries wenCstead- 
ily on, week after week. It is quite 
likely that the people would have 
understood if they had known how 
he was employing his spare time. 

He slept in an out-cabin near Flint's; 
and there, nights, he nursed his bruis- 
es and his humiliations, and studied 
and studied over a single problem — 

how he could murder Flint Buckner 

and not be found out. It was the 
only joy he had in life; these hours 
were the only ones in the twenty-four 
which he looked forward to with eager- 
ness and spent in happiness. 

He thought of poison. No — that 
would not serve; the inquest would 
reveal where it was procured and who 
had procured it. He thought of a shot 

6o 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


in the back in a lonely place when 
Flint would be homeward-bound at 
midnight — his unvarying hour for 
the trip. No — somebody might be 
near, and catch him. He thought 
of stabbing him in his sleep. No — 
he might strike an inefficient blow, 
and Flint would seize him. He ex- 
amined a hundred different ways — 
none of them would answer; for in 
even the very obscurest and secretes t 
of them there was always the fatal 
defect of a risk, a chance, a possibil- 
ity that he might be found out. He 
would have none of that. 

But he was patient, endlessly 
patient. There was no hurry, he 
said to himself. He would never 
leave Flint till he left him a corpse; 

6i 

The 
risk in 
kitting 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Re- 
<venge 
is sto^ 

there was no hurry — he would find 
the way. It was somewhere, and 
he would endure shame and pain 
and misery until he found it. Yes, 
somewhere there was a way which 
would leave not a trace, not even the 

faintest clew to the murderer — there 
was no hurry — he would find that 
way, and then — oh, then, it would 
just be good to be alive! Meantime 
he would diligently keep up his rep- 
utation for meekness; and also, as 
always theretofore, he would allow 
no one to hear him say a resentful 
or offensive thing about his oppressor. 

Two days before the before-men- 
tioned October morning Flint had 
bought some things, and he and Fet- 
lock had brought them home to Flint's 

62 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


cabin: a fresh box of candles, which 
they put in the corner; a tin can of 
blasting-powder, Yrhich they placed 
upon the candle-box; a keg of blast- 
ing-powder, which they placed under 
Flint's bunk; a huge coil of fuse, 
which they hung on a peg. Fet- 
lock reasoned that Flint's mining 
operations had outgrown the pick, 
and that blasting was about to begin 
now. He had seen blasting done, 
and he had a notion of the process, 
but he had never helped in it. His 
conjecture was right — blasting - time 
had come. In the morning the pair 
carried fuse, drills, and the powder- 
can to the shaft; it was now eight 
feet deep, and to get into it and out 
of it a short ladder was used. They 

63 

Mining 

material 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

First 

lessons 

descended, and by command Fetlock 
held the drill — without any instruc- 
tions as to the right way to hold it — 
and Flint proceeded to strike. The 
sledge came down; the drill sprang 
out of Fetlock's hand, almost as a 

matter of course. 

''You mangy son of a nigger, is 
that any way to hold a drill? Pick 
it up ! Stand it up ! There — hold 
fast. D you! Fll teach you!" 

At the end of an hour the drilling 

was finished. 

"Now, then, charge it." 

The boy started to pour in the pow- 
der. 

"Idiot!" 

A heavy bat on the jaw laid the 
lad out. 

64 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


^^Get up! You can't lie snivelling 
there. Now, then, stick in the fuse 
first. Now put in the powder. Hold 
on, hold on! Are you going to fill 
the hole all up? Of all the sap-headed 
milksops I — Put in some dirt! Put 
in some gravel! Tamp it down! 
Hold on, hold on! Oh, great Scott! 
get out of the way!" He snatched 
the iron and tamped the charge him- 
self, meantime cursing and blasphem- 
ing like a fiend. Then he fired the 
fuse, climbed out of the shaft, and 
ran fifty yards away. Fetlock follow- 
ing. They stood waiting a few min- 
utes, then a great volume of smoke 
and rocks burst high into the air 
with a thunderous explosion ; after 

a little there was a shower of de- 

5 65 

Vie 

first 

blast 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Timing 

the 

fuse 

scending stones; then all was serene 
again. 

'"I wish to God you'd been in it!" 
remarked the master. 

They went dowm the shaft, cleaned 
it out, drilled another hole, and put 
in another charge. 

''Look here! How much fuse are 

you proposing to waste? Don't you 

know how to time a fuse?" 

"No, sir." 

"You don^t ! Well, if you don't 
beat anything I ever saw!" 

He climbed out of the shaft and 
spoke down: 

"Well, idiot, are you going to be all 
day? Cut the fuse and light it!" 

The trembling creature began, 

"If you please, sir, I — " 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


''You talk back to me? Cut it and 
light iti/' 

The boy cut and lit. 

"Ger-reat Scott! a one-minute fuse! 

I wish you were in — "" 

In his rage he snatched the ladder 
out of the shaft and ran. The boy 
was aghast. 

"Oh, my God! Help! Help! Oh, 
save me!'' he implored. "Oh, what 
can I do! What caw I do!" 

He backed against the wall as 
tightly as he could; the sputtering 
fuse frightened the voice out of him; 
his breath stood still ; he stood gazing 
and impotent; in two seconds, three 
seconds, four, he would be flying 
toward the sky torn to fragments. 
Then he had an inspiration. He 

67 

Close to 
death 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Fetlock 
finds 
a. <way 

Sprang at the fuse and severed the 
inch of it that was left above ground, 

and was saved. 

He sank down limp and half life- 
less with fright, his strength all 
gone; but he muttered wdth a deep 
joy: 

''He has learnt me! I knew there 
was a way, if I would wait.'' 

After a matter of five minutes Buck- 
ner stole to the shaft, looking wor- 
ried and uneasy, and peered down 
into it. He took in the situation; he 
saw what had happened. He low- 
ered the ladder, and the boy dragged 
himself weakly up it. He was very 
white. His appearance added some- 
thing to Buckner's uncomfortable 
state, and he said, with a show of 

68 



HE BACKED AGAINST THE WALL AS TIGHTLY AS HE COULD 



f 




I 


4 


.. t 


j 


t 


\ 


% I 


> 

M 



I 

I 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


regret and sympathy which sat upon 
him awkwardly from lack of prac- 
tice: 

'' It was an accident, you know. 
Don't say anything about it to any- 
body ; I was excited, and didn't notice 
what I was doing. You're not look- 
ing well; you've worked enough for 
to-day; go down to my cabin and eat 
what you want, and rest. It's just 
an accident, you know, on account 
of my being excited." 

''It scared me," said the lad, as he 
started away; "but I learnt some- 
thing, so I don't mind it." 

"Damned easy to please!" muttered 
Buckner, following him with his eye. 

"I wonder if he'll tell? Mightn't 

he? ... I wish it had killed him." 

69 

Some- 

thing 

teamed 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Fever- 

ish 

v}ork 

The boy took no advantage of 
his holiday in the matter of rest- 
ing; he employed it in work, eager 
and feverish and happy work. A 
thick growth of chaparral extended 
down the mountain - side clear to 

Flint's cabin; the most of Fetlock's 

labor was done in the dark intrica- 
cies of that stubborn growth ; the rest 
of it was done in his own shanty. 

At last all was complete, and he 

said: 

''If he's got any suspicions that 

I'm going to tell on him, he won't 
keep them long, to-morrow. He will 
see that I am the same milksop as I 
always was — all day and the next. 

And the day after to-morrow night 
there'll be an end of him, and nobody 

70 



A 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 



will ever guess who finished him up 


nor how it was done. He dropped 
me the idea his own self, and that's 


The 

certain 

<UDay 


odd. 


)} 





A 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


V 


Night 
of the 
tragedy 


HE next day came and 
went. 

It is now almost mid- 
night, and in five min- 
utes the new morning will begin. The 
scene is in the tavern billiard-room. 
Rough men in rough clothing, slouch 
hats, breeches stuffed into boot-tops, 
some with vests, none with coats, are 
grouped about the boiler -iron stove, 
which has ruddy cheeks and is dis- 
tributing a grateful warmth ; the bill- 
iard-balls are clacking; there is no 

72 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


other sound — that is, within ; the wind 
is fitfully moaning without. The men 
look bored; also expectant. A hulk- 
ing, broad-shouldered miner, of mid- 
dle age, with grizzled whiskers, and 
an unfriendly eye set in an unsociable 
face, rises, slips a coil of fuse upon 
his arm, gathers up some other per- 
sonal properties, and departs without 
word or greeting to anybody. It is 

Flint Buckner. As the door closes 

behind him a buzz of talk breaks 

out. 

'' The regularest man that ever 
was,'' said Jake Parker, the black- 
smith; ''you can tell when it's twelve 
just by him leaving, without looking 
at your Waterbury." 

"And it's the only virtue he's got, 

73 

Regular 

method 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

A 

blight 

on 

society 

as fur as I know/' said Peter Hawes, 

miner. 

''He's just a blight on this society," 
said Wells -Fargo's man, Ferguson. 

" If I was running this shop I'd make 
him say something, some time or 
other, or vamos the ranch." This 
with a suggestive glance at the bar- 
keeper, who did not choose to see it, 
since the man under discussion was 
a good customer, and went home 
pretty well set up, every night, with 
refreshments furnished from the bar. 

"Say," said Ham Sandwich, miner, 
"does any of you boys ever recollect 
of him asking you to take a drink?" 
''Him? Flint Buckner? Oh, 

Laura!" 

This sarcastic rejoinder came in a 

74 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


spontaneous general outburst in one 
form of words or another from the 
crowd. After a brief silence, Pat 
Riley, miner, said: 

''He's the 15 -puzzle, that cuss. 
And his boy's another one. I can't 
make them out." 

"Nor anybody else," said Ham 
Sandwich; "and if they are 15-puz- 
zles, how are you going to rank up 
that other one? When it comes to 

A I right-down solid mysteriousness, 
he lays over both of them. Easy — 

don't he?" 

"You bet!" 

Everybody said it. Every man but 

one. He was the new-comer — Pe- 
terson. He ordered the drinks all 
round, and asked who No. 3 might 

75 

The 

/5- 

puzzle 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

A boy 
mystery 

be. All answered at once, ''Archy 

Stillman r' 

""Is he a mystery?^' asked Peter- 
son. 

""Is /te a mystery? Is Archy Still- 
man a mystery?'' said Wells-Fargo's 
man, Ferguson. ""Why, the fourth 
dimension's foolishness to him” 

For Ferguson was learned. 

Peterson wanted to hear all about 

him; everybody wanted to tell him; 
everybody began. But Billy Stevens, 
the barkeeper, called the house to or- 
der, and said one at a time was best. 

He distributed the drinks, and ap- 
pointed Ferguson to lead. Fergu- 
son said: 

""Well, he's a boy. And that is 
just about all we know about him. 

76 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


You can pump him till you are tired; 
it ain't any use; you won't get any- 
thing. At least about his intentions, 
or line of business, or where he's 
from, and such things as that. And 
as for getting at the nature and get- 
up of his main big chief mystery, 
why, he'll just change the subject, 
that's all. You can gvtess till you're 
black in the face — it's your privilege 
— but suppose you do, where do you 
arrive at ? Nowhere, as near as I 

can make out." 

'' What is his big chief one?" 

''Sight, maybe. Hearing, maybe. 
Instinct, maybe. Magic, maybe. Take 
your choice — grown-ups, tw^enty-five; 
children and servants, half price. Now 

I'll tell you what he can do. You 

77 

1 - 

Not 
to be 
pumped 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Can^t 

hide 

from 

him 

can start here, and just disappear; 
you can go and hide wherever you 
want to, I don't care where it is, nor 
how far — and he'll go straight and 
put his finger on you." 

''You don't mean it!" 

" I just do, though. Weather's noth- 
ing to him — elemental conditions is 
nothing to him — he don't even take 

notice of them." 

"Oh, come! Dark? Rain? Snow? 
Hey?" 

" It's all the same to him. He 
don't give a damn." 

"Oh, say — including fog, per'aps?" 

'‘Fog! he's got an eye 't can plunk 
through it like a bullet." 

"Now, boys, honor bright, what's 
he giving me?" 

78 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


''It's a factl" they all shouted. 
"Go on, 'Wells-Fargo." 

"Well, sir, you can leave him here, 
chatting with the boys, and you can 
slip out and go to any cabin in this 
camp and open a book — yes, sir, 
a dozen of them — and take the page 
in your memory, and he'll start out 
and go straight to that cabin and 
open every one of them books at the 
right page, and call it off, and never 

make a mistake." 

"He must be the devil!" 

"More than one has thought it. 
Now I'll tell you a perfectly wonder- 
ful thing that he done. The other 
night he — " 

There was a sudden great murmur 
of sounds outside, the door flew open, 

79 

Is he 
the 

de^il ? 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Child 
lost ai 
night 

and an excited crowd burst in, with 
the camp's one white woman in the 
lead and crying: 

child! my child! she's lost 
and gone! For the love of God help 
me to find Archy Stillman ; we've 
hunted everywhere!" 

Said the barkeeper: 

''Sit down, sit down, Mrs. Hogan, 
and don't worry. He asked for a 
bed three hours ago, tuckered out 
tramping the trails the way he's al- 
ways doing, and went up stairs. Ham 
Sandwich, run up and roust him out; 
he's in No. 14." 

The youth was soon downstairs 
and ready. He asked Mrs. Hogan 
for particulars. 

Bless you, dear, there ain't any; 

80 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


I wish there was. I put her to sleep 
at seven in the evening, and when I 
went in there an hour ago to go to bed 
myself, she was gone. I rushed for 
your cabin, dear, and you wasn't 
there, and I've hunted for you ever 
since, at every cabin down the gulch, 
and now I've come up again, and 

I'm that distracted and scared and 

heart-broke; but, thanks to God, I've 
found you at last, dear heart, and 
you'll find my child. Come on I come 
quick I" 

''Move right along; I'm with you, 
madam. Go to your cabin first." 

The whole company streamed out 
to join the hunt. All the southern 
half of the village was up, a hundred 
men strong, and waiting outside, a 

8l 

Strange 

dis- 

appear- 

ance 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

The 

search 

begins 

vague dark mass sprinkled with twin- 
kling lanterns. The mass fell into 
columns by threes and fours to ac- 
commodate itself to the narrow road, 
and strode briskly along southward 
in the wake of the leaders. In a 
few minutes the Hogan cabin was 

reached. 

''There's the bunk/' said Mrs. Ho- 
gan; "there's where she was; it's 
where I laid her at seven o'clock; but 
where she is now, God only knows." 

"Hand me a lantern," said Archy. 

He set it on the hard earth floor 
and knelt by it, pretending to exam- 
ine the ground closely. "Here's her 
track," he said, touching the ground 
here and there and yonder with his 
finger. "Do you see?" 

82 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


Several of the company dropped 
upon their knees and did their best 
to see. One or two thought they 
discerned something like a track ; 
the others shook their heads and con- 
fessed that the smooth hard surface 
had no marks upon it which their 
eyes were sharp enough to discover. 

One said, " Maybe a child's foot could 
make a mark on it, but I don't see 

how." 

Young Stillman stepped outside, 
held the light to the ground, turned 
leftward, and moved along three steps, 
closely examining; then said, "'I've 
got the direction — come along; take 
the lantern, somebody." 

He strode off swiftly southward, 
the files following, swaying and bend- 

83 

On the 
trail 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Follow- 
ing an 
invisible 
c/ew 

ing in and out with the deep curves 
of the gorge. Thus a mile, and the 
mouth of the gorge was reached; 
before them stretched the sage-brush 
plain, dim, vast, and vague. Stillman 
called a halt, saying, ''We mustn't 
start wrong, now; we must take the 
direction again." He took a lantern 
and examined the ground for a matter 
of twenty yards; then said, "Come 
on; it's all right," and gave up the 
lantern. In and out among the sage- 
bushes he marched, a quarter of a 
mile, bearing gradually to the right; 
then took a new direction and made 
another great semicircle ; then changed 
again and moved due west nearly 
half a mile — and stopped. 

"She gave it up, here, poor little 

84 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


chap. Hold the lantern. You can 
see where she sat.'' 

But this was in a slick alkali flat 

which was surfaced like steel, and no 
person in the party was quite hardy 
enough to claim an eyesight that 
could detect the track of a cushion 

on a veneer like that. The bereaved 
mother fell upon her knees and kissed 
the spot, lamenting. 

''But where is she, then?" some 
one said. " She didn't stay here. 

We can see that much, anyway." 

Stillman moved about in a circle 
around the place, with the lantern, 
pretending to hunt for tracks. " Well !" 
he said presently, in an annoyed 
tone, "I don't understand it." He 
examined again. " No use. She was 

85 

At 

faxilt 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

detective story 

Vanish- 

ing 

trait 

here — that^s certain ; she never walked 
away from here — and that's certain. 

It's a puzzle; I can't make it out." 

The mother lost heart then. 

''Oh, my God! oh, blessed Virgin! 
some flying beast has got her. I'll 
never see her again!" 

"Ah, don’t give up," said Archy. 
"We'll find her — don't give up." 

" God bless you for the words, 
Archy Stillman!" and she seized his 
hand and kissed it fervently. 

Peterson, the new-comer, whispered 
satirically in Ferguson's ear: 

"Wonderful performance to find 
this place, wasn't it? Hardly worth 
while to come so far, though; any 
other supposititious place would have 
answered just as well — hey?" 

1 86 

1 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


Ferguson was not pleased with 
the innuendo. He said, with some 
warmth : 

''Do you mean to insinuate that 
the child hasn’t been here? I tell 
you the child has been here! Now 
if you want to get yourself into as 
tidy a little fuss as — ” 

"All right!” sang out Stillman. 
"Come, everybody, and look at this! 

It was right under our noses all the 
time, and we didn’t see it.” 

There was a general plunge for 
the ground at the place where the 
child was alleged to have rested, and 
many eyes tried hard and hopefully to 
see the thing that Archy’s finger was 
resting upon. There was a pause, 
then a several-barrelled sigh of dis- 

87 

J^axth in 

sm- 

man 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

A n&w 
scent 

appointment. Pat Riley and Ham 
Sandwich said, in the one breath: 

'' What is it, Archy? There's noth- 
ing here." 

''Nothing? Do you call that noth- 
ing?" and he swiftly traced upon 
the ground a form with his finger. 
"There — don't you recognize it now? 

It's Injun Billy's track. He's got 

the child." 

"God be praised!" from the mother. 
"Take away the lantern. I've got 

the direction. Follow!" 

He started on a run, racing in and 
out among the sage-bushes a matter 
of three hundred yards, and disap- 
peared over a sand-wave; the others 
struggled after him, caught him up, 
and found him waiting. Ten steps 

88 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


away was a little wickieup, a dim 
and formless shelter of rags and old 
horse-blankets, a dull light showing 
through its chinks. 

"'You lead, Mrs. Hogan,'' said the 
lad. " It's your privilege to be 
first." 

All followed the sprint she made 
for the wickieup, and saw, with her, 
the picture its interior afforded. In- 
jun Billy was sitting on the ground; 
the child was asleep beside him. The 
mother hugged it with a wild embrace, 
which included Archy Stillman, the 
grateful tears running down her face, 
and in a choked and broken voice 
she poured out a golden stream of 
that wealth of worshipping endear- 
ments which has its home in full 

89 

The 

lost one 
found 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

At 

Injun 

BiUsi*s 

richness nowhere but in the Irish 

heart. 

'' I find her bymeby it is ten o'clock/' 
Billy explained. She 'sleep out yon- 

der, ve'y tired — face wet, been cry- 
in', 'spose; fetch her home, feed her, 
she heap much hungry — go 'sleep 
'gin." 

In her limitless gratitude the happy 
mother waived rank and hugged him 
too, calling him ''the angel of God 
in disguise." 

And he probably was in disguise 
if he was that kind of an official. He 

was dressed for the character. 

At half past one in the morning 
the procession burst into the village, 
singing " When Johnny Comes March- 
ing Home," waving its lanterns, and 

90 



A 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


swallowing the drinks that were 


brought out all along its course. It 
concentrated at the tavern, and made 


Made a 
night 
of it 


a night of what was left of the morn- 


ing. 


91 



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A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


I 

next afternoon the 
village was electrified 
^ with an immense sen- 

sation. A grave and 
dignified foreigner of distinguished 
bearing and appearance had arrived 
at the tavern, and entered this forr- 
midable name upon the register: 

Sherlock Holmes. 

The news buzzed from cabin to 
cabin, from claim to claim; tools 
were dropped, and the town swarmed 

95 

Sherlock 
Holmes / 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Fet- 

tock^s 

unde 

toward the centre of interest. A man 
passing out at the northern end of 
the village shouted it to Pat Riley, 
whose claim was the next one to 

Flint Buckner's. At that time Fet- 
lock Jones seemed to turn sick. He 
muttered to himself : 

'' Uncle Sherlock ! The mean luck 
of it! — that he should come just 
when ..." He dropped into a rev- ; 

erie, and presently said to himself: 
''But what's the use of being afraid 
of him? Anybody that knows him 
the way I do knows he can't detect a 
crime, except when he plans it all out 
beforehand and arranges the clews 
and hires some fellow to commit 
it according to instructions. . . . 

Now there ain't going to be any clews 

96 


— 

A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


this time — so, what show has he got? 
None at all. No, sir; everything's 
ready. If I was to risk putting it 
off. ... No, I won't run any risk like 
that. Flint Buckner goes out of this 
world to-night, for sure." Then an- 
other trouble presented itself. “Un- 
cle Sherlock 'll be wanting to talk 
home matters with me this evening, 
and how am I going to get rid of him? 
for I've got to be at my cabin a minute 
or two about eight o'clock." This 
was an awkward matter, and cost 
him much thought. But he found 
a way to beat the difficulty. “We'll 
go for a walk, and I'll leave him in 
the road a minute, so that he won't 
see what it is I do: the best way to 
throw a detective off the track, any- 

' 97 

Plan- 
ning for 
a detec- 
tive 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

The 

%had(yo) 

of 

great- 

ness 

way, is to have him along when you 
are preparing the thing. Yes, that's 
the safest— ril take him with me." 

Meantime the road in front of the 
tavern was blocked with villagers 
waiting and hoping for a glimpse of 
the great man. But he kept his 
room, and did not appear. None 
but Ferguson, Jake Parker the black- 
smith, and Ham Sandwich had any 

luck. These enthusiastic admirers of 

the great scientific detective hired the 
tavern's detained - baggage lockup, 
which looked into the detective's room 

across a little alleyway ten or twelve 
feet wide, ambushed themselves in it, 
and cut some peep-holes in the win- 
dow-blind. Mr. Holmes's blinds were 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


down; but by-and-by he raised them. 

It gave the spies a hair-lifting but 
pleasurable thrill to find themselves 
face to face with the Extraordinary 
Man who had filled the world with 

the fame of his more than human 
ingenuities. There he sat — not a 
myth, not a shadow, but real, alive, 
compact of substance, and almost 
within touching distance with the 

hand. 

''Look at that head!'' said Fergu- 
son, in an awed voice. " By gracious ! 

that’s a head!'' 

"You bet!" said the blacksmith, 
with deep reverence. "Look at his 
nose! look at his eyes! Intellect? 
Just a battery of it!" 

"And that paleness," said Ham 

99 

Sherlock 

in- 

spected 





A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

.DETECTIVE STORY 

Sherlock 

thinking 

Sandwich. ''Comes from thought — 

that's what it comes from. Hell! 

duffers like us don't know what real 

thought 

"No more we don't/' said Fergu- 
son. " What we take for thinking 
is just blubber-and-slush. " 

" Right you are, Wells-Fargo. And 
look at that frown — that's deep think- 
ing — away down, down, forty fathom 
into the bowels of things. He's on 
the track of something." 

"Well, he is, and don't you forget 
it. Say — look at that awful gravity 
— look at that pallid solemness — there 
ain't any corpse can lay over it." 

" No, sir, not for dollars 1 And 
it's his'n by hereditary rights, too; 
he's been dead four times a'ready, 

100 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


and there's history for it. Three 
times natural, once by accident. Fve 
heard say he smells damp and cold, 
like a grave. And he — " 

'' 'Sh! Watch him! There — he's 
got his thumb on the bump on the 
near corner of his forehead, and his 
forefinger on the off one. His think- 
works is just Si- grinding now, you bet 
your other shirt." 

“That's so. And now he's gazing 
up toward heaven and stroking his 
mustache slow, and — " 

“ Now he has rose up standing, 
and is putting his clews together on 
his left fingers with his right finger. 
See? he touches the forefinger — now 
middle finger — now ring-finger — " 
“Stuck!" 

loi 

Grind- 
ing his 
mind 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Real 

thinking 

'"Look at him scowl! He can't 

seem to make out that clew. So he — " 

"See him smile!— like a tiger— 
and tally off the other fingers like 
nothing! He's got it, boys; he's 
got it sure!" 

"Well, I should say! I'd hate to 
be in that man's place that he's after." 

IVIr. Holmes drew a table to the 
window, sat down with his back to 
the spies, and proceeded to write. 

The spies withdrew their eyes from 
the peep-holes, lit their pipes, and 
settled themselves for a comfortable 
smoke and talk. Ferguson said, with 
conviction : 

"Boys, it's no use talking, he's 
a wonder! He's got the signs of it 
all over him." 

102 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

M 

'"You hain't ever said a truer 
word than that, Wells-Fargo,'" said 
Jake Parker. "Say, wouldn't it 'a' 
been nuts if he'd a - been here last 
night?" 

"Oh, by George, but wouldn't it!" 
said Ferguson. "Then we'd have 
seen scientific work. Intellect — just 
pure intellect — away up on the upper 
levels, dontchuknow. Archy is all 
right, and it don't become anybody 
to belittle him, I can tell you. But 
his gift is only just eyesight, sharp 
as an owl's, as near as I can make it 
out just a grand natural animal tal- 
ent, no more, no less, and prime as 
far as it goes, but no intellect in it, 
and for awfulness and marvellous- 
ness no more to be compared to what 

103 

Scien- 

tific 

detect- 

ing 



— — — — 

A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Sher- 
lock* s 
method 

this man does than — than — Why, 
let me tell you what he'd have done. 
He'd have stepped over to Hogan's 
and glanced — just glanced, that's all 
— at the premises, and that's enough. 

See everything? Yes, sir, to the 
last little detail; and he'd know more 
about that place than the Hogans 
would know in seven years. Next, 
he would sit down on the bunk, just 
as ca'm, and say to Mrs. Hogan — 
Say, Ham, consider that you are 

Mrs. Hogan. I'll ask the questions; 
you answer them." 

All right; go on." 

"'Madam, if you please — attention 
— do not let your mind wander. Now, 
then — sex of the child?" 

"Female, your Honor." 

104 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


Um — female. Very good, very 
good. Age?'' 

“Turned six, your Honor/' 

“Um — yoimg, weak — two miles. 
Weariness will overtake it then. It 
will sink down and sleep. We shall 
find it two miles away, or less. 
Teeth?" 

“Five, your Honor, and one a-com- 

mg. 

“Very good, very good, very good 
indeed. You see, boys, he knows a 
clew when he sees it, when it wouldn't 
mean a dern thing to anybody else. 
Stockings, madam? Shoes?" 

“Yes, your Honor — both." 

“Yarn, perhaps? Morocco?" 

“Yarn, your Honor. And kip." 

“Um — kip. This complicates the 

105 

Just 

ques- 

tions 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

And 

then! 

matter. However, let it go — we shall 
manage. Religion?'' 

''Catholic, your Honor." 

"Very good. Snip me a bit from 
the bed blanket, please. Ah, thanks. 

Part wool — foreign make. Very well. 

A snip from some garment of the 
child's, please. Thanks. Cotton. 
Shows wear. An excellent clew, 
excellent. Pass me a pellet of the 
floor dirt, if you'll be so kind. Thanks, 
many thanks. Ah, admirable, ad- 
mirable! Now we know where we 
are, I think. You see, boys, he's 
got all the clews he wants now; he 
don't need anything more. Now, 
then, what does this Extraordinary 

Man do? He lays those snips and 
that dirt out on the table and leans 

io6 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


over them on his elbows, and puts 
them together side by side and 
studies them — mumbles to himself, 
'Female^; changes them around — 
mumbles, 'Six years old"; changes 
them this way and that — again mum- 
bles : ' Five teeth — one a-coming — 
Catholic — yarn — cotton — kip — 
damn that kip. " Then he straight- 
ens up and gazes toward heaven, 
and ploughs his hands through his 
hair — ploughs and ploughs, mutter- 
ing, ' Damn that kip ! " Then h e stands 
up and froAvns, and begins to tally 
off his clews on his fingers — and gets 
stuck at the ring-finger. But only 
just a minute — then his face glares 
all up in a smile like a house afire, 
and he straightens up stately and 

107 

More 

thinking 




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DETECTIVE STORY 

Easy 

style 

majestic, and says to the crowd, ' Take 
a lantern, a couple of you, and go 
down to Injun Billy's and fetch the 
child — the rest of you go 'long home 
to bed; good-night, madam; good- 
night, gents.' And he bows like the 
Matterhorn, and pulls out for the 
tavern. That's his style, and the 
Only — scientific, intellectual — all over 
in fifteen minutes — no poking around 
all over the sage-brush range an hour 
and a half in a mass-meeting crowd 
for him, boys — you hear me !” 

''By Jackson, it's grand!" said 
Ham Sandwich. " Wells-Fargo, you've 
got him down to a dot. He ain't 
painted up any exacter to the life in 
the books. By George, I can just see 
him - can't you, boys?" 

io8 



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DETECTIVE STORY 


''You bet you! Ifs just a photo- 

** Mdde 

graft, that's what it is." 

in Ger- 

Ferguson was profoundly pleased 

many " 

with his success, and gratefid. He 


sat silently enjoying his happiness a 


little while, then he murmured, with 


a deep awe in his voice, 


" I wonder if God made him?" 


There was no response for a mo- 


ment; then Ham Sandwich said, rev- 


erently. 


"Not all at one time, I reckon." 


109 




A 


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II 


T eight o'clock that even- 
ing two persons were 
groping their way past 
Flint Buckner's cabin in 
the frosty gloom. They were Sher- 
lock Holmes and his nephew. 

''Stop here in the road a moment, 
uncle," said Fetlock, "while I run 
to my cabin; I won't be gone a 
minute." 

He asked for something — the uncle 
furnished it — then he disappeared in 
the darkness, but soon returned, and 

no 




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DETECTIVE STORY 


the talking-walk was resumed. By 
nine o'clock they had wandered back 
to the tavern. They worked their 
way through the billiard-room, where 
a crowd had gathered in the hope of 
getting a glimpse of the Extraordinary 
Man. A royal cheer was raised. Mr. 
Holmes acknowledged the compliment 
with a series of courtly bows, and as 
he WRS passing out his nephew said 
to the assemblage, 

''Uncle Sherlock's got some work 
to do, gentlemen, that 'll keep him 
till twelve or one, but he'll be down 
again then, or earlier if he can, and 
hopes some of you'll be left to take a 
drink with him." 

" By George, he's just a duke, 
boys ! Three cheers for Sherlock 

III 

Back to 
the 

tavern 




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DETECTIVE STORY 

To treat 
his ad- 
mirers 

Holmes, the greatest man that ever 
lived!'' shouted Ferguson. ''Hip, hip, 
hip — " 

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! Tiger!" 

The uproar shook the building, 
so hearty was the feeling the boys 
put into their welcome. Upstairs the 
uncle reproached the nephew gently, 
saying, 

"What did you get me into that 
engagement for?" 

" I reckon you don't want to be un- 
popular, do you, uncle? Well, then, 
don't you put on any exclusiveness 
in a mining-camp, that's all. The 
boys admire you; but if you was to 
leave without taking a drink with 
them, they'd set you down for a snob. 
And, besides, you said you had home 



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DETECTIVE STORY 


talk enough in stock to keep us up 
and at it half the night/" 

The boy was right, and wise— the 
uncle acknowledged it. The boy was 
wise in another detail which he did not 
mention,— except to himself: ''Uncle 
and the others will come handy — in 
the way of nailing an alibi where it 
can"t be budged."" 

He and his uncle talked diligently 
about three hours. Then, about mid- 
night, Fetlock stepped down stairs 
and took a position in the dark a 
dozen steps from the tavern, and 
waited. Five minutes later Flint 

Buckner came rocking out of the 
billiard-room and almost brushed him 

as he passed. 

"Tve got him!"" muttered the boy. 

8 

An 

aUbi 




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DETECTIVE STORY 

Buck- 

ner's 

last 

^atk 

He continued to himself, looking after 
the shadowy form: ''Good-by — good- 
by for good, Flint Buckner ; you 
called my mother a — well, never mind 
what; it's all right, now; you're tak- 
ing your last walk, friend." 

He went musing back into the 
tavern. "From now till one is an 
hour. We'll spend it with the boys; 
it's good for the alibi.” 

He brought Sherlock Holmes to 
the billiard-room, which was jammed 
with eager and admiring miners; the 
guest called the drinks, and the fun 
began. Everybody was happy; ev- 
erybody was complimentary; the ice 
was soon broken; songs, anecdotes, 
and more drinks followed, and the 
pregnant minutes flew. At six min- 

114 



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DETECTIVE STORY 


utes to one, when the jollity was at 
its highest — 

Boom ! 

There was silence instantly. The 
deep sound came rolling and rumbling 
from peak to peak up the gorge, then 
died down, and ceased. The spell 
broke, then, and the men made a 
rush for the door, saying, 

''Something's blown upl" 

Outside, a voice in the darkness 
said, 

"It's away down the gorge; I saw 

the flash.'* 

The crowd poured down the can- 
yon — Holmes, Fetlock, Archy Still- 
man, everybody. They made the 
mile in a few minutes. By the light 
of a lantern they found the smooth 

115 

The 

explo- 

sion 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Some 

remains 

and solid dirt floor of Flint Buckner's 

cabin; of the cabin itself not a ves- 
tige remained, not a rag nor a splinter. 

Nor any sign of Flint. Search-par- j 

ties sought here and there and yonder, ] 

and presently a cry went up. ] 

''Here he is!" | 

It was true. Fifty yards down the i 

gulch they had found him — that is, | 

they had found a crushed and lifeless ] 

mass which represented him. Fet- 
lock Jones hurried thither with the 

others and looked. 

The inquest was a fifteen-minute 
affair. Ham Sandwich, foreman of i 
the jury, handed up the verdict, which 
was phrased with a certain unstudied 
literary grace, and closed with this 
finding, to wit: that "deceased came 

ii6 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


to his death by his own act or some 
other person or persons unknown to 
this jury not leaving any family or 
similar effects behind but his cabin 
which was blown away and God 
have mercy on his soul amen/' 

Then the impatient jury rejoined 
the main crowd, for the storm-cen- 
tre of interest was there — Sherlock 

Holmes. The miners stood silent and 
reverent in a half-circle, enclosing a 
large vacant space which included 
the front exposure of the site of the 
late premises. In this considerable 
space the Extraordinary Man was 
moving about, attended by his nephew 
with a lantern. With a tape he took 
measurements of the cabin site; of 
the distance from the w'all of chapar- 

II7 

Impa.- 

tient 

jury 

1 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Sher- 
lock's 
real job 

1 

ral to the road; of the height of the 
chaparral bushes; also various other 
measurements. He gathered a rag 
here, a splinter there, and a pinch 
of earth yonder, inspected them pro- 
foundly, and preserved them. He took | 

the '' lay '' of the place with a pocket- j 

compass, allowing two seconds for - 

magnetic variation. He took the time ; 

(Pacific) by his watch, correcting it 
for local time. He paced off the dis- 
tance from the cabin site to the corpse, 
and corrected that for tidal differen- 
tiation. He took the altitude with a 
pocket-aneroid, and the temperature 
with a pocket-thermometer. Finally 
he said, with a stately bow : 

''It is finished. Shall we return, 
gentlemen?'' 

ii8 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


He took Up the line of march for the 
tavern, and the crowd fell into his 
wake, earnestly discussing and ad- 
miring the Extraordinary Man, and 
interlarding guesses as to the origin 
of the tragedy and who the author 
of it might be. 

'"My, but it's grand luck having 
him here — hey, boys?" said Fergu- 
son. 

'Ht's the biggest thing of the cen- 
tury," said Ham Sandwich. ''It 'll 
go all over the world ; you mark my 

words." 

'‘You bet!" said Jake Parker the 
blacksmith. "It 'll boom this camp. 
Ain't it so, Wells-Fargo?" 

"Well, as you want my opinion — 
if it's any sign of how I think about 

119 

Luck 
for the 
camp 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Bunches 
of clews 

it, I can tell you this : yesterday I was 
holding the Straight Flush claim at 
two dollars a foot; Fd like to see the 
man that can get it at sixteen to- 
day.- 

''Right you are, Wells-Fargo! IFs 
the grandest luck a new camp ever 
struck. Say, did you see him collar 
them little rags and dirt and things? 
What an eye ! He just canH over- 
look a clew — Hain't in him.” 

" That's so. And they wouldn't 
mean a thing to anybody else; but 
to him, why, they're just a book — 
large print at that.” 

"Sure's you're born! Them odds 
and ends have got their little old secret, 
and they think there ain't anybody 
can pull it; but, land! when he sets 

120 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

detective story 


his grip there they've got to squeal, 
and don't you forget it." 

''Boys, I ain't sorry^ now, that he 
wasn't here to roust out the child; 
this is a bigger thing, by a long sight. 
Yes, sir, and more tangled up and 
scientific and intellectual." 

"I reckon we're all of us glad it's 
turned out this way. Glad? 'George! 
it ain't any name for it. Dontchu- 
know, Archy could 've learnt some- 
thing if he'd had the nous to stand by 
and take notice of how that man works 
the system. But no; he went poking 
up into the chaparral and just missed 
the whole thing." 

"It's true as gospel; I seen it 
myself. Well, Archy 's young. He'll 
know better one of these days." 

121 

A big 
thing 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Who did 
it? 

''Say, boys, who do you reckon 

done it?'' 

That was a difficult question, and 
brought out a world of unsatisfying 
conjecture. Various men were men- 
tioned as possibilities, but one by one 
they were discarded as not being eli- 
gible. No one but young Hillyer had 
been intimate with Flint Buckner; no 
one had really had a quarrel with him ; 
he had affronted every man who had 
tried to make up to him, although not 
quite offensively enough to require 
bloodshed. There was one name that 
was upon every tongue from the start, 
but it was the last to get utterance 
— Fetlock Jones's. It was Pat Riley 
that mentioned it. 

"Oh, well," the boys said, "of 

122 



A 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


course weVe all thought of him, be- 
cause he had a million rights to kill 
Flint Buckner, and it was just his 
plain duty to do it. But all the same 
there’s two things we can’t get around : 
for one thing, he hasn’t got the sand ; 
and for another, he wasn’t anywhere 
near the place when it happened.” 

''I know it,” said Pat. ''He was 
there in the billiard - room with us 
when it happened.” 

"Yes, and was there all the time for 
an hour before it happened.” 

"It’s so. And lucky for him, too. 
He’d have been suspected in a minute 
if it hadn’t been for that.” 


Fetlock* s 
alibi 


123 




Sherlock 

stately 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 



m 


^ tavern dining-room 
d been cleared of all 
furniture save one 
^-foot pine table and 



a chair. This table was against one 
end of the room; the chair was on it; 
Sherlock Holmes, stately, imposing, 
impressive, sat in the chair. The 
public stood. The room was full. 
The tobacco smoke was dense, the 
stillness profound. 

The Extraordinary Man raised his 
hand to command additional silence; 

124 


Sherlock 

stately 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


held it in the air a few moments ; then, 
in brief, crisp terms he put forward 
question after question, and noted the 
answers with “Um-iuns,'' nods of the 
head, and so on. By this process he 
learned all about Flint Buckner, his 
character, conduct, and habits, that 
the people were able to tell him. It 
thus transpired that the Extraordinary 
Man's nephew was the only person in 
the camp who had a killing-grudge 
against Flint Buckner. Mr. Holmes 
smiled compassionately upon the wit- 
ness, and asked, languidly — 

“Do any of you gentlemen chance 
to know where the lad Fetlock Jones 
was at the time of the explosion?" 

A thunderous response followed — 

“ In the billiard-room of this house I" 

125 

Thinks 
93oith his 
•voice 



M 

A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Just 

ques- 

tions 

“ Ah. And had he just come in?'' 

*'Been there all of an hour!" 

"'Ah. It is about — about — well, 
about how far might it be to the scene 
of the explosion?" 

''All of a mile 1" 

" Ah. It isn't much of an alibi, 'tis 
true, but — " 

A storm-burst of laughter, mingled 
with shouts of, " By jiminy, but he's 
chain-lightning!" and, " Ain't you sor- 
ry you spoke, Sandy?" shut off the 
rest of the sentence, and the crushed 
witness drooped his blushing face in 
pathetic shame. The inquisitor re- 
sumed : 

" The lad Jones's somewhat distant 
connection with the case" {laughter) 
"having been disposed of, let us now 

126 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
detective story 


call the e3;e-witnesses of the tragedy, 
and listen to what they have to say/' 
He got out his fragmentary clews 
and arranged them on a sheet of card- 
board on his knee. The house held 
its breath and watched. 

''We have the longitude and the 
latitude, corrected for magnetic vari- 
ation, and this gives us the exact loca- 
tion of the tragedy. We have the alti- 
tude, the temperature, and the degree 
of humidity prevailing — inestimably 
valuable, since they enable us to esti- 
mate with precision the degree of in- 
fluence which they would exercise 
upon the mood and disposition of the 
assassin at that time of the night." 
(Buzz of admiration; muttered remark, 
By George, hut he’s deep!”) He 

127 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

More 

^ords 

fingered his clews. '"And now let us 
ask these mute witnesses to speak 

to us. 

" Here we have an empty linen shot- 
bag. What is its message? This: 
that robbery was the motive, not re- 
venge. What is its further message? 
This : that the assassin was of inferior 
intelligence — shall we say light- witted, 
or perhaps approaching that? How 
do we know this? Because a person 
of sound intelligence would not have 
proposed to rob the man Buckner, 
who never had much money with him. 

But the assassin might have been a 
stranger? Let the bag speak again. 

I take from it this article. It is a bit 
of silver-bearing quartz. It is pecul- 
iar. Examine it, please — you — and 

128 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


you — and you. Now pass it back, 
please. There is but one lode on this 
coast which produces just that char- 
acter and color of quartz; and that is 
a lode which crops out for nearly two 
miles on a stretch, and in my opinion 
is destined, at no distant day, to con- 
fer upon its locality a globe-girdling 
celebrity, and upon its two hundred 
owners riches beyond the dreams of 
avarice. Name that lode, please. 

" The Consolidated Christian Sci- 
ence and Mary Aiml'" was the prompt 

response. 

A wild crash of hurrahs followed, 
and every man reached for his neigh- 
bor's hand and wrung it, with tears 
in his eyes; and Wells-Fargo Fergu- 
son shouted, '"The Straight Flush is 

9 129 

Like a 
cte^ 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Common- 

place 

on the lode, and up she goes to a hun- 
dred and fifty a foot — ^you hear me !” 

When quiet fell, Mr. Holmes re- 
sumed : 

''We perceive, then, that three facts 
are established, to wit: the assassin 
was approximately light - witted ; he 
was not a stranger; his motive was 
robbery, not revenge. Let us pro- 
ceed. I hold in my hand a small frag- 
ment of fuse, with the recent smell of 
fire upon it. What is its testimony? 
Taken with the corroborative evidence 
of the quartz, it reveals to us that the 
assassin was a miner. What does it 
tell us further? This, gentlemen : that 
the assassination was consummated 
by means of an explosive. What 
else does it say? This: that the ex- 

130 





A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


plosive was located against the side 
of the cabin nearest the road — the 
front side — for within six feet of that 
spot I found it. 

'' I hold in my fingers a burnt Swed- 
ish match — the kind one rubs on a 
safety-box. I found it in the road, 

622 feet from the abolished cabin. 
What does it say? This: that the 
train was fired from that point. W'hat 
further does it tell us? This: that 

the assassin was left-handed. How 

do I know this? I should not be able 
to explain to you, gentlemen, how I 
know it, the signs being so subtle 
that only long experience and deep 
study can enable one to detect them. 

But the signs are here, and they are 
re-enforced by a fact which you must 

131 

Subtle 

signs 



Left- 

handed 

•villaiv^ 


A DOUBLE-BAR II ELLED 
DETECTIVE vSTORY 


have often noticed in the great detec- 
tive narratives — that all assassins are 
left-handed/' 

''By Jackson, thafs so!" said Ham 
Sandwich, bringing his great hand 
down with a resounding slap upon 
his thigh; "blamed if I ever thought 
of it before." 

"Nor I!" "Nor I!" cried several. 
" Oh, there can't anything escape him 
— ^look at his eye!" 

"Gentlemen, distant as the mur- 
derer was from his doomed victim, he 
did not wholly escape injury. This 
fragment of wood which I now ex- 
hibit to you struck him. It drew 
blood. Wherever he is, he bears the 
telltale mark. I picked it up where 
he stood when he fired the fatal train." 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


He looked out over the house from 
his high perch, and his countenance 
began to darken ; he slowly raised 
his hand, and pointed — 

''There stands the assassin 

For a moment the house was para- 
lyzed with amazement; then twenty 
voices burst out with: 

"Sammy Hilly er? Oh, hell, no 1 
Him? It's pure foolishness 1" 

" Take care, gentlemen — be not 
hasty. Observe — he has the blood- 

mark on his brow." 

Hillyer turned white with fright. 

He was near to crying. He turned 
this way and that, appealing to every 
face for help and sympathy; and held 
out his supplicating hands toward 
Holmes and began to plead : 

Guess at 
the 

criminal 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Archy 
to the 
reseat 

** Don^t, oh, don't! I never did it; 

I give my word I never did it. The 
way I got this hurt on my forehead 

was — " 

""Arrest him, constable 1 " cried 
Holmes. ""I will swear out the war- 
rant." 

The constable moved reluctantly for- 
ward — hesitated — stopped. 

Hillyer broke out with another ap- 
peal. "" Oh, Archy, don't let them do 
it; it would kill mother! You know 
how I got the hurt. Tell them, and 
save me, Archy ; save me!" 

Stillman worked his way to the 
front, and said : 

""Yes, I'll save you. Don't be 
afraid." Then he said to the house, 
""Never mind how he got the hurt; it 

134 










YES. I’LL SAVE YOU 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

\ 

hasn't anything to do with this case, 
and isn't of any consequence." 

''God bless you, Archy, for a true 
friendl" 

"Hurrah for Archy I Go in, boy, 
and play 'em a knock-down flush to 
their two pair 'n' a jack!" shouted 
the house, pride in their home talent 
and a patriotic sentiment of loyalty 
to it rising suddenly in the public 
heart and changing the whole atti- 
tude of the situation. 

Young Stillman waited for the noise 
to cease; then he said, 

"I will ask Tom Jeffries to stand 
by that door yonder, and Constable 
Harris to stand by the other one here, 
and not let anybody leave the room." 

" Said and done. Go on, old man!" 

135 

Real 

detective 

voork 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

The 

criminal 

present 

"The criminal is present, I believe. 

I will show him to you before long, 
in case I am right in my guess. Now 

I will tell you all about the tragedy, 
from start to finish. The motive 
wasn't robbery ; it was revenge. The 
murderer wasn't light - witted. He 
didn't stand 622 feet away. He didn't 
get hit with a piece of wood. He didn't 
place the explosive against the cabin. 

He didn't bring a shot-bag with him, 
and he wasn't left-handed. With the 
exception of these errors, the distin- 
guished guest's statement of the case 
is substantially correct." 

A comfortable laugh rippled over 
the house; friend nodded to friend, as 
much as to say, "That's the word, 
with the bark on it. Good lad, good 

136 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


boy. He ain't lowering his flag 
any!" 

The guest's serenity was not dis- 
turbed. Stillman resumed: 

I also have some witnesses ; and I 
will presently tell you where you can 
find some more." He held up a piece 
of coarse wire; the crowd craned their 

necks to see. It has a smooth coat- 

ing of melted tallow on it. And here 
is a candle which is burned half-way 
down. The remaining half of it has 
marks cut upon it an inch apart. 
Soon I will tell you where I found 
these things. I will now put aside 
reasonings, guesses, the impressive 
hitching of odds and ends of clews 
together, and the other showy theatri- 
cals of the detective trade, and tell you 

137 

TeUiale 

e^dence 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Just 
h(yw it 
hap- 
pemd 

in a plain, straightforward way just 
how this dismal thing happened/' 

He paused a moment, for effect — to 
allow silence and suspense to intensify 
and concentrate the house's interest; 

then he went on : 

''The assassin studied out his plan 
with a good deal of pains. It was a 
good plan, very ingenious, and showed 
an intelligent mind, not a feeble one. 

It was a plan which was well calcu- 
lated to ward off all suspicion from its 
inventor. In the first place, he marked 
a candle into spaces an inch apart, 
and lit it and timed it. He found it 
took three hours to burn four inches 
of it. I tried it myself for half an hour, 
awhile ago, upstairs here, while the 
inquiry into Flint Buckner's character 

138 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


and ways was being conducted in 
this room, and I arrived in that way 
at the rate of a candle's consumption 
when sheltered from the wind. Hav- 
ing proved his trial-candle's rate, he 
blew it out — I have already shown it 
to you — and put his inch-marks on a 
fresh one. 

''He put the fresh one into a tin 
candlestick. Then at the five-hour 
mark he bored a hole through the 
candle with a red-hot wire. I have 
already shown you the wire, with a 
smooth coat of tallow on it — tal- 
low that had been melted and had 

cooled. 

"With labor — very hard labor, I 
should say— he struggled up through 
the stiff chaparral that clothes the 

139 

The 

candle 

test 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Laying 
the mine 

steep hill-side back of Flint Buckner's 
place, tugging an empty flour-barrel 
with him. He placed it in that ab- 
solutely secure hiding-place, and in 
the bottom of it he set the candlestick. 
Then he measured off about thirty- 
five feet of fuse — the barrel's distance 

from the back of the cabin. He bored 

a hole in the side of the barrel — here 

is the large gimlet he did it with. He 
went on and finished his work; and 
when it was done, one end of the fuse 
was in Buckner's cabin, and the other 
end, with a notch chipped in it to ex- 
pose the powder, was in the hole in 
the candle — timed to blow the place 
up at one o'clock this morning, pro- 
vided the candle was lit about eight 
o'clock yesterday evening — which I 

140 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


am betting it was — and provided there 
was an explosive in the cabin and 
connected with that end of the fuse — 

which I am also betting there was, 
though I can't prove it. Boys, the 
barrel is there in the chaparral, the 

candle's remains are in it in the tin 

stick ; the burnt-out fuse is in the gim- 
let-hole, the other end is down the hill 

where the late cabin stood. I saw 

them all an hour or two ago, when 
the Professor here was measuring off 
unimplicated vacancies and collecting 
relics that hadn't anything to do with 

the case." 

He paused. The house drew a 
long, deep breath, shook its strained 
cords and muscles free and burst 

into cheers. 

141 

Full 

details 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

A 

second 

hiding- 

pla.ce 

‘'Dang him I'' said Ham Sandwich, 
“that's why he was snooping around 
in the chaparral, instead of picking 
up points out of the P'fessor's game. 
Looky here — he ain't no fool, boys." 

“No, sirl Why, great Scott — " 

But Stillman was resuming: 

“ While we were out yonder an hour 
or two ago, the owner of the gimlet 
and the trial-candle took them from a 
place where he had concealed them — 
it was not a good place — and carried 
them to what he probably thought 
was a better one, two hundred yards 
up in the pine woods, and hid them 
there, covering them over with pine 
needles. It was there that I found 
them. The gimlet exactly fits the 
hole in the barrel. And now — " 

142 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


The Extraordinary Man interrupted 
him. He said, sarcasticall}^ : 

^'We have had a very pretty fairy- 
tale, gentlemen — very pretty indeed. 
Now I would like to ask this young 
man a question or two.'' 

Some of the boys winced, and Fer- 
guson said, 

" I'm afraid Archy's going to catch 
it now." 

The others lost their smiles and 

sobered down. Mr. Holmes said: 

"Let us proceed to examine into 
this fairy-tale in a consecutive and 
orderly way — by geometrical pro- 
gression, so to speak — linking detail 
to detail in a steadily advancing and 
remorselessly consistent and unassail- 
able march upon this tinsel toy-fortress 

143 

A pretty 
fairy- 
tale 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED \ 

DETECTIVE STORY i 

The 

time 

test 

1 

of error, the dream-fabric of a callow 
imagination. To begin with, young )i 

sir, I desire to ask you but three ques- J 

tions at present — at present. Did I | 

understand you to say it was your 
opinion that the supposititious candle 
was lighted at about eight o'clock 
yesterday evening?" 

'"Yes, sir — about eight." 

"Could you say exactly eight?" 

"Well, no, I couldn't be that ex- 
act." 

" Um. If a person had been passing 
along there just about that time, he , 

would have been almost sure to en- 
counter that assassin, do you think?" 

"Yes, I should think so." 

"Thank you, that is all. For the 
present. I say, all for the present.” 

144 ' 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


/'Bern him! he's laying for Archy/' 
said Ferguson. 

''It's so," said Ham Sandwich. 

" I don't like the look of it." 

Stillman said, glancing at the guest, 

"I was along there myself at half 
past eight — no, about nine." 

"In-deed? This is interesting — this 
is very interesting. Perhaps you en- 
countered the assassin yourself?" 

"No, I encoimtered no one." 

"Ah. Then — if you will excuse 
the remark — I do not quite see the 
relevancy of the information." 

"It has none. At present. I say 
it has none — at present." He paused. 
Presently he resumed: "I did not en- 
counter the assassin, but I am on his 
track, I am sure, for I believe he is in 

On the 
spot 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Watch- 
ing thdr 
feet 

this room. I will ask you all to pass 
one by one in front of me — here, where 
there is a good light — so that I can 
see your feet/' 

A buzz of excitement swept - the 
place, and the march began, the guest 
looking on with an iron attempt at 
gravity which was not an unqualified 
success. Stillman stooped, shaded 
his ^es with his hand, and gazed- 
down intently at each pair of feet as 
it passed. Fifty men tramped monot- 
onously by — with no result. Sixty. 
Seventy. The thing was beginning 
to look absurd. The guest remarked, 
with suave irony, 

'' Assassins appear to be scarce 
this evening." 

The house saw the humor of it, and 

146 :i 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


refreshed itself with a cordial laugh. 

Ten or twelve more candidates tramped 
by — no, danced by, with airy and 
ridiculous capers which convulsed the 
spectators — then suddenl3^ Stillman 
put out his hand and said, 

'' This is the assassin!'" 

'' Fetlock Jones, by the great Sanhe- 
drim!" roared the crowd; and at once 
let fly a pyrotechnic explosion and 
dazzle and confusion of stirring re- 
marks inspired by the situation. 

At the height of the turmoil the 
guest stretched out his hand, com- 
manding peace. The authority of a 
great name and a great personality 
laid its mysterious compulsion upon 
the house, and it obeyed. Out of the 
panting calm which succeeded, the 

147 

The real 
assassin 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

With the 
detective 

guest spoke, saying, with dignity 
and feeling: 

**This is serious. It strikes at an 
innocent life. Innocent beyond sus- 
picion! Innocent beyond perad vent- 
ure! Hear me prove it; observe how 
simple a fact can brush out of existence 
this witless lie. Listen. My friends, 
that lad was never out of my sight 
yesterday evening at any time!'' 

It made a deep impression. Men 
turned their eyes upon Stillman with 
grave inquiry in them. His face 
brightened, and he said, 

'H knew there was another one!" 

He stepped briskly to the table and 
glanced at the guest's feet, then up at 
his face, and said: '"You were loith 
him! You were not fifty steps from 

148 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


him when he lit the candle that by- 
and-by fired the powder!'' (Se^isa- 
tion.) '"And what is more, you fur- 
nished the matches yourself!" 

Plainly the guest seemed hit; it 
looked so to the public. He opened 
his mouth to speak; the words did 
not come freely. 

" This — er — this is insanity — 
this—" 

Stillman pressed his evident ad- 
vantage home. He held up a charred 

match. 

"Here is one of them. I found it 

in the barrel — and there's another one 

there." 

The guest found his voice at once. 
‘‘Yes — and put them there your- 
self!" 

14,9 

He fur- 
nished 
matches 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Wax 

matches 

It was recognized as a good shot. 
Stillman retorted: 

''It is wax — a breed unknown to 
this camp. I am ready to be searched 
for the box. Are you?” 

The guest was staggered this time 
— the dullest eye could see it. He 
fumbled with his hands; once or twice 
his lips moved, but the words did not 
come. The house waited and watched, 
in tense suspense, the stillness adding 
effect to the situation. Presently Still- 
man said, gently, 

"We are waiting for your decision.” 

There was silence again during 
several moments; then the guest an- 
swered, in a low voice, 

"I refuse to be searched.” 

There was no noisy demonstration, 

150 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


but all about the house one voice after 


another muttered: 


''That settles itl He^s Archy's 

Archy*s 

meat.'' 

meat 

What to do now? Nobody seemed 


to know. It was an embarrassing 


situation for the moment — merely, of 


course, because matters had taken 


such a sudden and unexpected turn 


that these unpractised minds were 


not prepared for it, and had come to a 


standstill, like a stopped clock, under 


the shock. But after a little the ma- 


chinery began to work again, tenta- 


tively, and by twos and threes the 


men put their heads together and 


privately buzzed over this and that 


and the other proposition. One of 


151 





A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Thank- 
ing the 
assassin 

these propositions met with much fa- 
vor ; it was, to confer upon the assassin 
a vote of thanks for removing Flint 
Buckner, and let him go. But the 
cooler heads opposed it, pointing out 
that addled brains in the Eastern 

States would pronounce it a scandal, 
and make no end of foolish noise 

about it. In the end the cool heads 
got the upper hand, and obtained 
general consent to a proposition of 
their own, and their leader then called 
the house to order and stated it — to 
this effect: that Fetlock Jones be 
jailed and put upon his trial. 

The motion was carried. Appar- 
ently there was nothing further to do 
now, and the people were glad, for, i 

privately, they were impatient to get 

152 : 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


out and rush to the scene of the trag- 
edy, and see whether that barrel and 
the other things were really there or 

not. 

But no — the break-up got a check. 

The surprises were not over yet. For 
awhile Fetlock Jones had been silent- 
ly sobbing, unnoticed in the absorb- 
ing excitements which had been fol- 
lowing one another so persistently 
for some time; but when his arrest 
and trial were decreed, he broke out 
despairingly, and said : 

''No! it's no use. I don't want 
any jail, I don't want any trial; I've 
had all the hard luck I want, and all 
the miseries. Hang me now, and let 
me out! It would all come out, any- 
way — there couldn't an5d:hing save 

IS3 

Wanted 
no trial 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

The 

confess 

sion 

me. He has told it all, just as if he'd 

been with me and seen it — I don't 

know how he found out; and you'll 
find the barrel and things, and then I 
wouldn't have any chance any more. 

I killed him; and you'd have done 
it too, if he'd treated you like a dog, 
and you only a boy, and weak and 
poor, and not a friend to help you." 

And served him damned well 
right 1" broke in Ham Sandwich. 
"Looky here, boys — " 

From the constable: "" Order 1 Or- 
der, gentlemen!" i 

A voice: '"Did your uncle know 
what you was up to?" 

"No, he didn't." 

"Did he give you the matches, 
sure enough?" 

154 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


"Yes, he did; but he didn’t know 
what I wanted them for.” 

" When you was out on such a busi- 
ness as that, how did you venture to 
risk having him along — and him a 
detective? How’s that?” 

The boy hesitated, fumbled with 
his buttons in an embarrassed way, 
then said, shyly, 

"I know about detectives, on ac- 
count of having them in the family; 
and if you don’t want them to find 
out about a thing, it’s best to have 
them around when you do it.” 

The cyclone of laughter which 
greeted this naive discharge of wis- 
dom did not modify the poor little 
waif’s embarrassment in any large 
degree. 

155 

Uses for 
a. detec- 
tive 




A 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


IV 

From a Letter to Mrs. Stillman. Dated 
merely Tuesday.” 


Fetlock 
in jail 


ETLOCK JONES was 
put under lock and key 
in an unoccupied log 
cabin, and left there to 
await his trial. Constable Harris 
provided him with a couple of days’ 
rations, instructed him to keep a 
good guard over himself, and prom- 
ised to look in on him as soon as 
further supplies should be due. 

Next morning a score of us went 

156 





A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


with Hillyer, out of friendship, and 
helped him bury his late relative, the 
unlaniented Buckner, and I acted as 
first assistant pall-bearer, Hillyer act- 
ing as chief. Just as we had finished 
our labors a ragged and melancholy 
stranger, carrying an old hand-bag, 
limped by with his head down, and I 
caught the scent I had chased around 
the globe! It was the odor of Para- 
dise to my perishing hope! 

In a moment I was at his side and 
had laid a gentle hand upon his shoul- 
der. He slumped to the ground as 
if a stroke of lightning had withered 
him in his tracks; and as the boys 
came running he struggled to his 
knees and put up his pleading hands 
to me, and out of his chattering jaws 

157 

The 

missing 

one 

found 




K DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Driven 

insane 

he begged me to persecute him no 
more, and said, 

"'You have hunted me around the 
world, Sherlock Holmes, 3^et God is 
m3^ witness I have never done any 
man harm I'" 

A glance at his wild eyes showed * 
us that he was insane. That was 
m3^ work, mother! The tidings of 
your death can some day repeat the 
misery I felt in that moment, but noth- 
ing else can ever do it. The boys 
lifted him up, and gathered about 
him, and were full of pity of him, and 
said the gentlest and touchingest 
things to him, and said cheer up and 
don't be troubled, he was among 
friends now, and they would take 
care of him, and protect him, and hang 

158 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


any man that laid a hand on him. 
They are just like so many mothers, 
the rough mining -camp boys are, 
when you wake up the south side of 
their hearts; yes, and just like so 
many reckless and unreasoning chil- 
dren when you wake up the opposite 
side of that muscle. They did every- 
thing they could think of to comfort 
him, but nothing succeeded until Wells- 
Fargo Ferguson, who is a clever vstrat- 
egist, said, 

'' If iFs only Sherlock Holmes that's 
troubling you, you needn't worry any 
more." 

'"Why?" asked the forlorn lunatic, 
eagerly. 

''Because he's dead again." 

"Dead! Dead! Oh, don't trifle 

159 

Sherlock 

dead 

again 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Hanged 
by mis- 
take 

with a poor wreck like me. Is he 
dead? On honor, now — is he telling 
me true, boys?'' 

''True as you're a-standing there!" 
said Ham Sandwich, and they all 
backed up the statement in a body. 

"They hung him in San Bernar- 
dino last week," added Ferguson, 
clinching the matter, "whilst he was 
searching around after you. Mis- 
took him for another man. They're 
sorry, but they can't help it now." 

"They're a-building him a monu- 
ment," said Ham Sandwich, with the 
air of a person who had contributed 
to it, and knew. 

"James Walker" drew a deep sigh 
— evidently a sigh of relief — and said 
nothing; but his eyes lost something 

i6o 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


of their wildness, his countenance 
cleared visibly, and its drawn look 
relaxed a little. We all went to our 
cabin, and the boys cooked him the 
best dinner the camp could furnish 
the materials for, and while they 
were about it Hillyer and I outfitted 
him from hat to shoe-leather with 

new clothes of ours, and made a come- 
ly and presentable old gentleman of 
him. ""Old” is the right word, and 
a pity, too; old by the droop of him, 
and the frost upon his hair, and the 
marks which sorrow and distress have 
left upon his face; though he is only 
in his prime in the matter of years. 
While he ate, we smoked and chatted ; 
and when he was finishing he found 
his voice at last, and of his own 

Soothing 
the old 
man 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

The 

•wrong 

man's 

story 

accord broke out with his personal 
history. I cannot furnish his exact 
words, but I will come as near it as I 

can. 

The ‘'Wrong Man's” Story. 

It happened like this : I was in Den- i 

ver. I had been there many years; 
sometimes I remember how many, 
sometimes I don't — but it isn't any 
matter. All of a sudden I got a notice 
to leave, or I would be exposed for a 
horrible crime committed long before i 

— years and years before — in the East. i 

I knew about that crime, but I was 
not the criminal; it was a cousin of 

mine of the same name. What should 

I better do? My head was all dis- 
ordered by fear, and I didn't know. 

162 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


I was allowed very little time — only 
one day, I think it was. I would be 
ruined if I was published, and the 
people would lynch me, and not be- 
lieve what I said. It is always the 
way with lynchings; when they find 
out it is a mistake they are sorry, 
but it is too late, — the same as it was 
with Mr. Holmes, you see. So I said 

I would sell out and get money to live 
on, and run away until it blew over 
and I could come back with my proofs. 
Then I escaped in the night and went 
a long way off in the mountains some- 
where, and lived disguised and had a 

false name. 

I got more and more troubled and 
worried, and my troubles made me see 
spirits and hear voices, and I could 

163 

Under 
a. false 
name 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Restless 

<Dotces 

not think straight and clear on any ♦ 

subject, but got confused and involved i 

and had to give it up, because my I 

head hurt so. It got to be worse and 
worse; more spirits and more voices. 

They were about me all the time; at i 

first only in the night, then in the 
day too. They were always whis- 
pering around my bed and plotting ! 

against me, and it broke my sleep 
and kept me fagged out, because I 
got no good rest. 

And then came the worst. One ' 

night the whispers said, "'Well never T 

manage, because we can't see him, and 
so can't point him out to the people." ; 

They sighed; then one said: "We 
must bring Sherlock Holmes. He ; 

can be here in twelve days." 

164 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


They all agreed, and whispered and 
jibbered with joy. But my heart 
broke; for I had read about that man, 
and knew what it would be to have 
him upon my track, with his super- 
human penetration and tireless ener- 
gies. 

The spirits went away to fetch him, 
and I got up at once in the middle of 
the night and fled away, carrying 
nothing but the hand-bag that had 
my money in it — thirty thousand dol- 
lars; two-thirds of it are in the bag 
there yet. It was forty days before 
that man caught up on my track. I 
just escaped. From habit he had 
written his real name on a tavern 
register, but had scratcheci it out and 
written "'Dagget Barclay'' in the 

165 

Fleeing 

from 

^erlock 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Hunted 

for 

years 

place of it. But fear gives you a 
watchful eye and keen, and I read 
the true name through the scratches, 
and fled like a deer. 

He has hunted me all over this 

world for three years and a half — 
the Pacific States, Australasia, India 
— everywhere you can think of; then 
back to Mexico and up to California 
again, giving me hardly any rest; 
but that name on the registers always 
saved me, and what is left of me is 
alive yet. And I am so tired! A 
cruel time he has given me, yet I give 
you my honor I have never harmed 
him nor any man. 

That was the end of the story, and 
it stirred those boys to blood-heat, 

i66 



A double-barrelled 

DETECTIVE STORY 


be sure of it. As for me — each word 

burnt a hole in me where it struck. 

We voted that the old man should 
bunk with us, and be my guest and 
Hillyer's. I shall keep my own coun- 
sel, naturally; but as soon as he is 
well rested and nourished, I shall 

take him to Denver and rehabilitate 

his fortunes. 

The boys gave the old fellow the 
bone-mashing good-fellowship hand- 
shake of the mines, and then scattered 
away to spread the news. 

At dawn next morning Wells-Fargo 
Ferguson and Ham Sandwich called 
us softly out, and said, privately : 

''That news about the way that 
old stranger has been 'treated has 
spread all around, and the camps 

167 

Self- 

reprosLch 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

After 

Sherlock 

again 

are up. They are piling in from 
everywhere, and are going to lynch 
the P'fessor. Constable Harris is in 
a dead funk, and has telephoned the 
sheriff. Come along!'' 

We started on a rim. The others 

were privileged to feel as they chose, 
but in my heart's privacy I hoped 
the sheriff would arrive in time, for I 

had small desire that Sherlock Holmes 
should hang for my deeds, as you can 
easily believe. I had heard a good 
deal about the sheriff, but for reas- 
surance' sake I asked, 

'' Can he stop a mob?" 

''Can he stop a mob! Can Jack 
Fairfax stop a mob! Well, I should 
smile ! Ex-desperado — nineteen scalps 
on his string. Can he ! Oh, I say /" 

i68 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

detective story 


As we tore up the gulch, distant 
cries and shouts and yells rose faintly 
on the still air, and grew steadily in 
strength as we raced along. Roar 
after roar burst out, stronger and 
stronger, nearer and hearer; and at 
last, when we closed up upon the mul- 
titude massed in the open area in 
front of the tavern, the crash of sound 
was deafening. Some brutal roughs 
from Daly's Gorge had Holmes in 
their grip, and he was the calmest 
man there; a contemptuous smile 
played about his lips, and if any fear 
of death was in his British heart, his 
iron personality was master of it, and 
no sign of it was allowed to appear. 

Come to a vote, men!" This from 
one of the Daly gang, Shadbelly 

169 

A mob 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Burn 

him 

Higgins. ''Quick! is it hang, or 
shoot?'' 

"Neither!" shouted one of his com- 
rades. "He'd be alive again in a 
week; burning's the only permanency 

for him.'’ 

The gangs from all the outlying 
camps burst out in a thunder-crash of 
approval, and went struggling and 
surging toward the prisoner, and 
closed around him, shouting, "Fire! 
fire's the ticket!" They dragged him 
to the horse-post, backed him against 
it, chained him to it, and piled wood 
and pine cones around him waist-deep. 

Still the strong face did not blench, 
and still the scornful smile played 
about the thin lips. 

"A match! fetch a match!" 

170 



A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


Shadbelly struck it, shaded it with 
his hand, stooped, and held it under 
a pine cone. A deep silence fell upon 
the mob. The cone caught, a tiny 
flame flickered about it a moment or 

two. I seemed to catch the soimd 
of distant hoofs — it grew more dis- 
tinct — still more and more distinct, 
more and more definite, but the ab- 
sorbed crowd did not appear to no- 
tice it. The match went out. The 
man struck another, stooped, and 
again the flame rose; this time it 
took hold and began to spread — here 
and there men turned away their 
faces. The executioner stood with 
the charred match in his" fingers, 
watching his work. The hoof-beats 
turned a projecting crag, and now 

17I 

Funeral 

pyre 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

The 

sheriff 

they came thundering down upon 
us. Almost the next moment there 

was a shout — 

^'The sheriff 

And straightway he came tearing 
into the midst, stood his horse almost 
on his hind feet, and said, 

''Fall back, you gutter-snipes 1 '" 

He was obeyed. By all but their 
leader. He stood his ground, and his 
hand went to his revolver. The sher- 
iff covered him promptly, and said : 

"Drop your hand, you parlor-des- 
perado. Kick the fire away. Now 
unchain the stranger.'' 

The parlor-desperado obeyed. Then 
the sheriff made a speech; sitting 
his horse at martial ease, and not 
warming his words with any touch 

^5^’ 172 








“THE sheriff!” 


4 


■ u 






I 


N 


y 

% 


t 




I 

!! 


h 




* 

I 


■i 

i 

-1 

i 

1 

\ 

1 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 


of fire, but delivering them in a meas- 
ured and deliberate way, and in a 
tone which harmonized with their 
character and made them impressive- 
ly disrespectful. 

You're a nice lot — now ain't you? 
Just about eligible to travel with this 
bilk here — Shadbelly Higgins — this 
loud-mouthed sneak that shoots peo- 
ple in the back and calls himself a des- 
perado. If there's anything I do par- 
ticularly despise, it's a lynching mob; 

I've never seen one that had a man 
in it. It has to tally up a hundred 
against one before it can pump up 
pluck enough to tackle a sick tailor. 

It's made up of cowards, and so is 
the community that breeds it; and 
ninety-nine times out of a hundred 

<^1^’ 173 

Coming 
the mob 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Names 

the 

sheriff 

the sheriff's another one. " He paused 
— apparently to turn that last idea 
over in his mind and taste the juice 

of it — then he went on: '"The sheriff 
that lets a mob take a prisoner away 
from him is the lowest-down coward 

there is. By the statistics there was 
a hundred and eighty-two of them 
drawing sneak pay in America last 
year. By the way it's going, pret- 
ty soon there'll be a new disease in 
the doctor books — sheriff complaint.'' 
That idea pleased him — any one could 
see it, " People will say, ' Sheriff 
sick again?' 'Yes; got the same old 
thing.' And next there'll be a new 
title. People won't say, 'He's run- 
ning for sheriff of Rapaho County,' 
for instance; they'll say, 'He's run- 

174 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 

g 

ning for Coward of Rapaho/ Lord, 
the idea of a grown-up person being 
afraid of a lynch mob!'' 

He turned an eye on the captive, 
and said, Stranger, who are you, 
and what have you been doing?'' 

'' My name is Sherlock Holmes, 
and I have not been doing an3dhing." 

It was wonderful, the impression 
which the sound of that name made on 
the sheriff, notwithstanding he must 
have come posted. He spoke up with 
feeling, and said it was a blot on the 
country that a man whose marvellous 
exploits had filled the world with 
their fame and their ingenuity, and 
whose histories of them had won 
every reader's heart by the brilliancy 
and charm of their literary setting, 

175 

A name 
to con- 
jure 
•with 




A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 

DETECTIVE STORY 

Driven 
to ihdr 
holes 

should be visited under the Stars and 
Stripes by an outrage like this. He 
apologized in the name of the whole 
nation, and made Holmes a most 
handsome bow, and told Constable 
Harris to see him to his quarters, and 
hold himself personally responsible 
if he was molested again. Then he 
turned to the mob and said : 

"Hunt your holes, you scum I 
which they did; then he said: "Fol- 
low me, Shadbelly; Til take care of 
your case myself. No — keep your 
pop -gun; whenever I see the day 
that ril be afraid to have you behind 
me with that thing, it 'll be time for 
me to join last year's hundred and 
eighty -two;" and he rode off in a 
walk, Shadbelly following. 

176 


A DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


When we were on our way back to 
our cabin, toward breakfast-time, we 
ran upon the news that Fetlock Jones 
had escaped from his lock-up in the 
night and is gone I Nobody is sorry. 
Let his uncle track him out if he likes ; 
it is in his line; the camp is not in- 


Fetlock 

escapes 


terested. 


^5^ 177 






DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


V 


The 

<=CDrong 

righted 


EN days later . — ''James 
Walker'' is all right in 
body now, and his mind 
shows improvement too. 
I start with him for Denver to-mor- 
row morning. 

Next night. Brief note, mailed at 
a way station . — As we were starting, 
this morning, Hillyer whispered to 
me: "Keep this news from Walker 
until you think it safe and not likely 
to disturb his mind and check his 
improvement: the ancient crime he 






A 


DOUBLE-BARRELLED 
DETECTIVE STORY 


spoke of was really committed — and 
by his cousin, as he said. We buried 
the real criminal the other day — the 
unhappiest man that has lived in a 
century — Flint Buckner. His real 
name was Jacob Fuller!'" There, 
mother, by help of me, an unwitting 
mourner, your husband and my father 
is in his grave. Let him rest. 


The 

real 

criminal 


THE END 


179 




r 








'1 


I 


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